AMOUS  MEN 


Boys  who  Became 
Famous  Men 


"The  citizen  wheeled  abruptly,  grasped 


Boys  who  Became 
Famous  Men 

Stories  of  the  Childhood  of  Poets 
Artists,  and  Musicians 

By 

Harriet  Pearl  Skinner 


Illustrated  by  Sears  Gallagher 


Boston 

Little,  Brown,  and   Company 
1905 


Copyright,  1905, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published  September,  1905 


THE   UNIVERSITY   PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 
FRANK,  HOWARD,  AND  ROBERT  ANDREWS 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

BENI'S  KEEPER:  GIOTTO 1 

THE  VICTOR:  BACH 9 

"THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN":  BYRON   .  44 
"  TOM     PEAR-TREE'S     PORTRAIT  "  :     GAINS- 
BOROUGH       71 

GEORG'S  CHAMPION  :  HANDEL 92 

Six  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE:  COLERIDGE    .     .     .  133 

THE  LION  THAT  HELPED:  CANOVA    ....  176 

FREDERIC  OF  WARSAW  :  CHOPIN 207 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  The  citizen  wheeled  abruptly,  grasped  his 

arm" Frontispiece 

PAGE 
"  He  was  roused  by  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder  "          4 

"  Sebastian  started  up,  bewildered  "      ...  37 
"  Lay  in   the    grass  reading  aloud   from   his 

favorite  story " 56 

"  A  head  suddenly  appeared  above  the  wall "  84 
"The  clavichord  provided  unceasing  enter- 
tainment"         116 

"  In  its  place  appeared  a  noble  lion  "...  193 

"  Like  the  tired  robbers,  were  fast  asleep  "    .  216 


BOYS    WHO   BECAME 
FAMOUS  MEN 

BENl'S   KEEPER 

[  GIOTTO  i  ] 

ONE  summer  morning,  long  ago,  a 
small  boy  guarded  his  father's  sheep 
on  a  hillside  in  the  Apennines.  Up  and 
down  the  stony  pasture  he  trod,  driving 
back  the  lambs  who  strayed  too  far,  and 
trying  all  the  while  to  keep  his  wayward 
charges  in  a  group  where  he  could  count 
them  from  time  to  time.  His  chief  care 
was  to  prevent  them  from  straggling 
into  the  lonely  passes  above,  where  wild 
animals  might  set  upon  and  devour  them  ; 
and  to  watch  that  they  did  not  wander 
down  the  wooded  slope  and  imprison 
themselves  in  the  tangled  thickets  below. 
The  boy  might  easily  have  been  mis- 
taken for  a  dryad,  as  he  sprang  from 
rock  to  rock,  whistling  shrilly  here,  coax- 

1  Giotto  (pronounced  J6tto\ 

[i] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

ing,  calling  there,  and  waving  his  crook 
to  direct  the  truants  back  to  the  flock. 
It  would  have  seemed  no  great  wonder  if 
he  had  really  stepped  out  from  a  moun- 
tain boulder  to  command  these  gentle 
troops,  for  like  all  woodland  sprites,  he 
was  brown.  His  eyes  were  brown,  his 
hair  was  brown,  and  the  tunic  reaching 
barely  to  his  knee  was  made  of  cool 
brown  linen.  His  sleeves  were  rolled 
to  the  shoulder,  and  his  arms  and  legs, 
bared  ever  to  the  sun,  were  as  brown  as 
bronze  itself.  A  crimson  cover-kerchief 
wound  carelessly  about  his  head  was  the 
only  bit  of  vivid  color  on  the  mountain 
side. 

The  sun  shone  hot,  and  when  Giotto 
was  satisfied  that  his  sheep  were  all  about 
him,  cropping  the  mosses,  he  threw  him- 
self down  in  the  shade  of  an  ilex-tree, 
and  wiped  his  forehead  on  the  sleeve  of 
his  tunic. 

Below,  he  could  see  his  home  nestling 
in  a  forest  of  sturdy  pines,  and  far  down 
the  valley  shone  the  roofs  and  spires 
[8] 


BENFS  KEEPER 

of  the  village.  Southward  appeared  a 
glimpse  of  the  public  road  that  threaded 
its  way  through  the  hills  to  the  mighty 
city  of  Florence.  Giotto  had  never 
visited  the  place,  but  his  father,  who 
every  spring  carried  wool  thither  to 
market,  had  often  told  him  of  the  splen- 
did bridges,  towers,  and  palaces  to  be 
seen  there.  Great  men  lived  there  too, 
Giotto's  father  had  said,  and  one  of  them, 
a  certain  Cimabue,1  painted  such  pic- 
tures as  the  world  had  never  seen  before. 
Of  this  painter  and  his  colors  the  boy 
was  never  tired  of  hearing  ;  and  as  he  lay 
on  the  grass  under  the  ilex-tree,  he  was 
longing  unspeakably  for  the  time  to 
come  when  he  himself  might  go  to  Flor- 
ence and  behold  the  pictures  wrought  by 
Cimabue's  hand. 

Musing,  his  eye  fell  upon  a  smooth  flat 
stone  near  by,  and  with  the  sight  came  a 
desire  that  caused  him  to  leap  from  his 
lounging  position,  his  face  alight  with 
purpose. 

*  Cimabue  (pronounced  Chlm-a-bofa/). 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"  Hold  still  for  a  little  while,  Beni !  " 
he  said,  addressing  one  of  the  sheep  that 
nibbled  beside  the  stone  ;  "just  be  quiet, 
and  I  '11  play  I  'm  Cimabue,  and  draw 
your  picture." 

Giotto  reached  for  a  sharp  bit  of  slate 
that  had  chipped  from  the  rock  above, 
and  carefully  studying  the  woolly  face 
before  him,  began  to  draw  upon  the  flat 
white  stone.  Patiently,  thoughtfully  he 
worked,  glancing  now  up  at  his  placid 
companion,  now  down  at  his  flinty  can- 
vas, and  coaxing  Beni  back  into  position 
with  tempting  handfuls  of  grass  when- 
ever the  animal  turned  to  trot  away. 

The  sun  rose  high,  and  the  boy,  bend- 
ing low  c  er  his  task,  forgot  that  he  was 
warm,  forgot  that  he  was  tired,  even  for- 
got that  he  was  hungry,  until  he  was 
roused  by  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

He  sprang  up,  startled  beyond  speech 
by  the  touch,  for  he  had  believed  himself 
alone  with  the  silence  and  the  sheep. 

Before  him  stood  a  man  in  the  robes 
of  a  scholar.  His  manner  was  stately, 
[4] 


"He  was  roused  by  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder." 


BENPS  KEEPER 

his  face  pale  and  serious.  He  was  gaz- 
ing intently  downward,  not  upon  the 
little  Tuscan  shepherd,  but  at  Beni's  pic- 
ture upon  the  stone. 

"  Boy,  where  did  you  learn  to  draw  ? " 
he  exclaimed  in  a  voice  of  strong 
excitement. 

"  Learn  to  draw  ? "  queried  Giotto 
wonderingly.  "  Nowhere,  sir.  I  have  n't 
learned." 

"  Do  you  mean  me  to  believe  that  you 
have  had  no  teacher,  no  one  to  tell  you 
how  to  use  your  pencil  ? "  The  speaker 
searched  the  boy's  face  earnestly,  almost 
fiercely,  in  his  desire  to  know  whether 
the  child  spoke  the  truth. 

Giotto,  innocent  of  all  but  the  facts  of 
his  simple  experience,  replied  sadly,  "  My 
father  is  too  poor  to  pay  for  lessons." 

"  Then  God  Himself  has  taught  you  ! " 
declared  the  stranger,  hoarse  with  agita- 
tion. "  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Giotto,  sir." 

"  I  am  Cimabue,  Giotto." 

"  Not  —  not  Cimabue,  the  painter  of 
[5] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Florence!"  ejaculated  the  lad,  falling 
back  a  step,  unable  to  believe  that  he 
who  stood  before  him  was  in  reality  the 
hero  of  his  boyish  dreams. 

"  Yes,"  affirmed  the  man  gravely, 
"  and  if  you  will  go  with  me  to  Florence, 
child,  I  will  make  of  you  so  great  a 
painter  that  even  the  name  of  Cimabue 
will  dwindle  before  the  name  of  Giotto." 

Down  upon  one  bare  knee  fell  the  boy, 
and  grasping  the  master's  hand  in  both 
of  his,  he  cried, — 

"  Oh,  teach  me  to  paint  pictures,  great 
and  beautiful  pictures,  and  I  will  go  with 
you  anywhere  —  "  He  broke  off  sud- 
denly and  rose,  —  "if  father  will  give  me 
leave,"  he  concluded  quietly. 

"  Oho  !  "and  the  artist  smiled  curiously. 
"  If  your  father  forbade,  you  would  not  go 
with  me,  even  though  you  might  become 
a  great  painter  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Giotto  slowly,  casting  down 
his  eyes,  "  even  though  I  might  become 
a  great  painter." 

"Most  good,  most  good,"  burst  out 
[6] 


BENFS  KEEPER 

the  master  exultantly ;  "  a  true  heart 
should  ever  direct  a  painter's  hand,  and 
yours  is  true  indeed,  Giotto.  Come,  let 
us  go  to  him." 

Down  the  steep  they  hastened,  the  boy 
running  on  before  to  point  the  way,  the 
master  following  with  the  look  of  one 
who  has  found  a  diamond  in  the  dust  at 
his  feet;  and  when  they  came  before 
Giotto's  father  with  their  strange  re- 
quest, and  the  Tuscan  peasant  learned 
what  fortune  had  befallen  his  child,  with 
the  promised  teaching  and  protection  of 
Cimabue  the  renowned,  he  bared  his 
head,  waved  his  hand  toward  Florence, 
and  said  to  the  painter  solemnly,  — 

"  Take  him,  master,  and  teach  him  the 
cunning  of  your  brush,  the  magic  of  your 
colors  ;  tell  him  the  secret  of  your  art  and 
the  mystery  of  your  fame,  but  let  him 
not  forget  his  home,  nor  his  mountains, 
nor  his  God." 

And  what  became  of  the  little  Tuscan 
shepherd  ? 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

He  dwelt  with  Cimabue  in  the  won- 
derful city  of  Florence,  studying  early, 
studying  late ;  and  by  the  time  he  had 
grown  to  manhood,  he  was  known  to  be 
the  greatest  painter  in  all  the  world. 
Even  his  master  turned  to  him  for 
instruction,  and  picture-lovers  journeyed 
from  distant  countries  to  see  him  and 
behold  his  works.  He  was  encouraged 
by  the  church,  honored  by  the  court, 
loved  by  the  poor  ;  and  in  all  Christen- 
dom no  name  was  more  truly  revered 
than  that  of  the  painter,  Giotto. 


[8] 


THE  VICTOR 

[BACH1] 

DOWN  the  principal  street  of  old 
Ohrdruf  came  a  procession  of 
boys  singing  a  New  Year's  anthem. 
The  cantor  marched  before  them,  wield- 
ing his  baton  high  above  his  head,  so 
that  those  following  could  watch  its 
motions  and  keep  in  perfect  accord. 
Behind  him  marched  the  singers,  two 
by  two.  They  carried  neither  book  nor 
music  sheet,  but  every  eye  was  fixed 
steadily  upon  the  silver-tipped  baton, 
and  forty  voices  rose  in  harmony  so 
splendid  and  exact  that  passers-by 
stopped,  listened,  and  turned  to  follow 
the  procession  down  the  street. 

The  singers  wore  students'  caps  and 
gowns  of  black,  and  upon  the  breast  of 
each  shone  an  embroidered  Maltese  cross 
of  gold,  while  below  it  appeared  the 

i  Bach  (pronounced  Bakh). 

[9] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

crimson  letters,  S.  M.  C.,  which  denoted 
that  these  were  the  choir-boys  of  St. 
Michael's  Church. 

Marching  into  an  open  square,  they 
formed  a  compact  group  about  the 
cantor,  and  started  a  fresh  and  stirring 
hymn ;  and  presently  stepped  forth  the 
smallest  boy  of  them  all,  who  paused  a 
pace  or  two  in  advance  of  the  others,  and 
took  up  the  strain  alone.  Clear  and 
sweet  rang  out  his  voice  upon  the  frosty 
air,  and  listeners  by  the  way  turned  to 
one  another  with  nods  and  smiles  of 
pleasure. 

"  That 's  little  Bach,"  announced  one. 

"They  say  he  is  one  of  the  best 
sopranos  at  St.  Michael's,"  murmured 
another. 

The  lad  seemed  quite  unconscious  of 
the  impression  he  was  making,  for  his 
manner  was  as  unaffected  as  though  he 
were  singing  only  to  the  barren  trees. 
His  dark  face  was  not  noticeably  hand- 
some, but  was  very  earnest ;  and  a 
certain  plaintive  note  in  his  voice  ap- 
[10] 


THE    VICTOR 

pealed  to  the  company  with  singular 
power,  for  while  the  carol  falling  from 
his  lips  was  blithe  indeed,  the  eyes  of  his 
hearers  were  wet.  Fervently  he  hymned 
the  New  Year's  joy,  now  trilling,  trilling, 
like  a  rapturous  bird  at  springtime ;  now 
softly  crooning  with  the  sound  of  a 
distant  violin. 

When  his  solo  ended,  a  round  of 
applause  and  many  bravos  burst  from 
his  audience,  but  the  boy  stepped  quickly 
back  to  his  former  place  and  finished  the 
choral  with  the  others. 

In  the  crowd  of  bystanders,  a  man 
wearing  a  coat  and  cap  of  rough  gray 
fur  smiled  broadly  when  the  people 
applauded  little  Bach. 

"  Who  is  the  boy  ?  "  inquired  a 
stranger  at  his  elbow. 

"He  is  Sebastian  Bach  and  my 
brother,"  announced  the  fur-coated  man. 
"  I  am  the  organist  at  St.  Michael's,  and 
he  is  one  of  the  leading  sopranos." 

"You  should  be  proud  of  the   child, 
for  he  sings  remarkably  well." 
[11] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"  I  am  proud  of  him  —  ah,  here  come 
the  collectors." 

The  singing  was  done,  and  in  and  out 
among  the  bystanders  went  the  boys, 
passing  their  wooden  plates  for  pennies 
in  exchange  for  their  serenade. 

Nearly  every  one  contributed  some- 
thing, for  the  people  of  Ohrdruf  were 
genuine  music-lovers,  and  they  knew 
that  the  money  gathered  in  this  fashion 
would  be  divided  equally  among  the 
boys,  to  use  as  they  pleased. 

The  choir  broke  ranks,  having  paraded 
and  collected  in  all  the  streets  of  the 
town,  and  black-robed  boys  scurried 
away  in  every  direction. 

"Are  you  bound  for  home  now, 
Sebastian  ? "  asked  Georg  Erdmann, 
the  soloist's  marching  companion. 

"  No,"  replied  the  other,  "  I  am  going 
to  the  church  to  practise." 

"  Oh,  little  Bach  is  going  to  practise  on 
the  organ,"  exclaimed  a  woman  who  had 
overheard  the  boy's  speech.  "  Come,  sis- 
ter, let 's  go  in  and  listen  while  he  plays." 


THE   VICTOR 

Whereupon  the  two  matrons  followed 
him  across  the  square,  and  the  fur-coated 
organist,  who  had  lately  seemed  so  grat- 
ified at  Sebastian's  success,  scowled 
fiercely. 

"  I  wish  that  boy  would  stick  to  his 
singing,  and  let  the  organ  alone,"  he 
muttered.  "  People  tell  me  every  day 
that  if  I  don't  look  sharp  my  little 
brother  will  beat  me  at  my  own  profes- 
sion. EJe  would  make  me  a  nice  return 
for  my  kindness,  if,  after  I  have  taken 
him  into  my  house,  fed  him,  clothed 
him,  and  taught  him  everything  that  he 
knows  about  music,  he  should  try  to 
outstrip  me  in  my  own  work  and  shame 
me  before  my  friends.  I  won't  have  it ! 
I  won't  bear  it!  I'll  admit  that  the 
boy  is  industrious  and  generally  obedi- 
ent, but  I  sha'  n't  let  him  impose  on  me,  if 
he  is  of  my  own  flesh  and  blood.  Why 
should  these  people  go  to  hear  him  prac- 
tise ?  Why  don't  they  drop  in  while  / 
am  playing  ?  I  am  the  organist,  al- 
though people  seem  to  forget  the  fact 
[13] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

I  think  I  '11  step  over  to  the  church  and 
see  what  these  people  are  going  mad 
about." 

Into  the  shadowy  edifice  he  stole,  tak- 
ing up  his  position  behind  the  two 
women  whose  coming  had  so  clearly  an- 
noyed him.  The  peal  of  the  organ  was 
filling  the  place  from  floor  to  dome,  but 
though  the  women  listened  with  eager 
attention,  the  face  of  ChristofF  Bach 
gradually  softened. 

"He  is  playing  his  studies,  just  as  I 
have  taught  him.  Any  boy  who  is  wil- 
ling to  work  could  do  as  well.  There  is 
nothing  remarkable  in  that  performance. 
I  need  n't  be  worried  for  my  position  yet 
awhile." 

High  in  the  organ-loft  Sebastian  prac- 
tised faithfully,  unaware  of  the  presence 
of  kindred  or  stranger.  Page  after  page 
he  rehearsed,  sometimes  repeating  a  dif- 
ficult passage  many  times  before  leaving 
it. 

At  length  he  removed  the  thick  scroll 
from  the  rack,  and  replaced  it  with  a 
[14] 


THE   VICTOR 

second  book  of  musical  manuscript. 
Then  the  church  re-echoed  with  sounds 
of  a  brilliant  fugue. 

At  the  first  note  Christoff  Bach 
started  violently  and  his  mouth  fell 
open  with  astonishment.  He  strained 
forward  to  be  sure  that  he  heard  aright, 
and  as  the  inspiriting  theme  rolled 
through  the  vaulted  spaces  his  eyes 
grew  sinister  and  his  hands  were 
clenched  so  tightly  that  his  nails  dug 
savagely  into  his  palms. 

"  My  book,"  he  gasped  ;  "  the  music 
that  I  copied  at  Arnstadt  for  my  own 
use  !  When  did  he  decide  to  steal  it, 
and  undertake  to  learn  my  best  selec- 
tions ?  He  can't  keep  to  his  own  pieces, 
but  must  filch  out  mine  during  my  ab- 
sence, and  fumble  them  on  the  organ  so 
that  my  friends  can  laugh  at  me  for 
being  outdone  by  a  ten-year-old.  The 
braggart  1  I  'd  thrash  him  soundly  if  I 
had  n't  promised  father  that  I  'd  keep 
my  hands  off  him ;  but  I  '11  settle  this 
business  before  I  sleep.  The  upstart !  " 
[15] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Raging  inwardly,  Christoff  Bach 
stalked  from  the  church  ;  and  half  an 
hour  later  Sebastian  quietly  took  his 
music  bag  under  his  arm  and  started 
homeward,  conscious  that  he  was  very 
hungry,  and  that  an  appetizing  New 
Year's  dinner  would  be  ready  when  he 
arrived. 

Sebastian  Bach  had  lost  both  parents 
by  death,  and  for  nearly  a  year  he  had 
lived  with  his  brother  at  Ohrdruf.  Sel- 
dom does  an  orphan  fall  into  such  kindly 
hands,  for  Christoff  had  generously  sup- 
plied the  boy's  needs,  and  the  organist's 
young  wife  had  cared  for  Sebastian  with 
all  the  gentleness  of  a  sister.  They  sent 
him  to  the  Lyceum  school,  and  Christoff 
taught  him  music  at  home.  At  first 
the  elder  brother  rejoiced  over  the  boy's 
progress  in  organ  playing,  and  often 
rubbed  his  hands  with  pride  as  he  pre- 
dicted for  his  pupil  a  future  filled  with 
musical  successes.  But  as  the  months 
rolled  by,  and  the  lad  acquired  greater 
knowledge,  Christoff  became  silent. 
[16] 


THE    VICTOR 

Had  Sebastian  been  content  to  daw- 
dle at  his  practising,  or  even  to  work 
with  moderate  zest,  his  experience  might 
have  proved  no  different  from  that  of 
most  music  students ;  but  he  did  noth- 
ing by  halves,  and  whether  he  worked  or 
whether  he  played,  whether  he  studied 
grammar  or  whether  he  led  the  games  at 
school,  he  attacked  the  enterprise  with 
such  force  that  he  usually  came  off  vic- 
torious. Bringing  this  same  determina- 
tion to  bear  upon  his  music,  he  soon  left 
his  fellow-students  far  behind ;  and 
practising  hour  after  hour  and  day  after 
day,  with  his  mind  set  upon  conquering 
all  obstacles  as  soon  as  they  appeared,  he 
climbed  and  presently  leaped  into  mu- 
sicianly  skill.  Some  of  his  music  mates 
complained  that  Sebastian  learned  more 
in  one  week  than  they  did  in  three  or 
four,  and  their  conclusion  was  wholly 
correct ;  but  while  they  grumbled  they 
forgot  that  he  daily  spent  twice  as  many 
hours  at  the  organ  as  did  any  one  of 
them,  toiling  steadily,  unfalteringly,  un- 
2  [17] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

til  he  had  acquired  a  skill  far  exceeding 
theirs. 

He  was  such  a  good  comrade,  how- 
ever, that  they  readily  forgave  him  his 
musical  progress,  and  in  every  game  and 
contest  on  the  playground  he  was 
eagerly  sought  as  an  ally. 

Strangely  enough,  as  Sebastian's  facil- 
ity increased,  his  teacher's  brow  clouded. 
The  boy  could  not  understand  why  his 
brother  was  more  plainly  vexed  over  a 
perfect  lesson  than  with  a  faulty  one. 
In  the  beginning  Christoff  had  cheered 
Sebastian  on,  but  of  late  he  had  grown 
crabbed  and  irritable,  and  the  lessons  had 
come  to  be  hours  of  harsh  and  sneering 
criticism.  Sebastian  did  not  dream  that 
his  brother  was  jealous,  but  this  was 
really  the  case ;  and  Christoff  heard  the 
boy's  lessons  with  deepening  anxiety  and 
distaste.  Never,  however,  until  to-day 
had  the  organist  admitted,  even  to  him- 
self, that  he  was  afraid  of  his  younger 
brother,  that  he  dreaded  lest  he  himself 
should  be  outstripped  by  his  pupil. 
[18J 


THE   VICTOR 

When  Sebastian  opened  the  door  of 
the  great  kitchen,  which  served  the  fam- 
ily for  dining-room  and  living-room  as 
well,  a  savory  odor  floated  out  to  greet 
him. 

"  Hurrah  for  the  goose,  Sch wester !  I 
hope  it  is  nearly  done  !  "  he  cried,  throw- 
ing down  his  music  and  hanging  his  cap 
and  cloak  on  a  peg  beside  the  door. 

Mrs.  Bach  was  kneeling  before  the 
open  fireplace,  busily  engaged  in  turning 
the  fowl  that  browned  so  temptingly 
above  the  blaze ;  but  upon  Sebastian's 
entrance,  she  rose  and  approached  him 
with  a  troubled  look. 

"  Christoff  is  very  angry  with  you," 
she  whispered,  indicating  the  chamber 
above  with  a  motion  of  her  hand. 

"  Angry  with  me  ?  What  for?  What's 
wrong  ?  "  exclaimed  Sebastian  astonished. 
Before  she  could  reply,  a  door  above  was 
heard  to  open,  and  down  the  wooden 
stairway  at  the  end  of  the  kitchen  rushed 
Christoff  Bach,  his  face  purple,  his  eyes 
gleaming. 

[19] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Seizing  Sebastian  roughly  by  the  arm, 
he  loudly  demanded,  — 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  stealing  my 
pieces,  and  trying  to  learn  them  behind 
my  back,  so  that  the  town  can  laugh 
at  me  when  you  perform  ?  " 

"  Steal !  Laugh  !  "  echoed  Sebastian 
blankly,  unable  to  comprehend  his 
brother's  meaning. 

"  Don't  pretend  to  be  innocent !  You 
can't  hoodwink  me  any  longer,  my  young 
cub.  I  '11  see  that  nothing  like  this  oc- 
curs again." 

"What  have  I  done,  Christoff?  I 
don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  You  stole  my  book  that  I  copied  at 
Arnstadt,  taking  pains  to  lay  hold  of  it 
while  I  was  safe  at  Gotha." 

"  I  did  n't  steal  it,"  returned  Sebastian 
horrified. 

"You  didn't?  What  do  you  call 
your  going  into  my  room,  taking  music 
without  my  permission,  and  practising  it 
while  I  am  out  of  town  ? " 

"  I  did  n't  suppose  you  would  care  a 
[20] 


THE   VICTOR 

bit.  I  thought  if  I  learned  one  or  two 
of  Paehelbel's  fugues,  it  would  be  a  nice 
surprise  for  you  when  you  came  back 
from  Gotha," 

"  A  nice  surprise  !  Ha,  ha !  Ho,  ho  ! 
I  suppose  that  next  time  I  go  from  home 
for  a  week  you  will  surprise  me  by  pilfer- 
ing the  contents  of  my  money-drawer." 

"I  didn't  steal,  I  didn't  steal  the 
book,"  protested  Sebastian,  paling  under 
the  sting  of  his  brother's  taunt. 

"  No,  no,  Christoif,  I  'm  sure  the  boy 
meant  no  harm,"  interposed  Mrs.  Bach, 
touching  her  husband's  arm  with  a  coax- 
ing gesture  ;  "  I  knew  that  he  borrowed 
your  music  book,  but  I  thought  also  that 
you  would  be  pleased  with  his  desire  to 
study  it." 

"  Then  you,  too,  are  engaged  in  a  plot 
to  ruin  me  !  "  shrieked  the  organist,  car- 
ried quite  beyond  himself  by  the  fury  of 
his  jealousy  ;  "  I  '11  see  whether  I  am  not 
to  be  master  in  my  own  house.  If  I 
can't  leave  my  belongings  in  my  room 
without  fear  that  my  brother  will  use 
[21] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

them  expressly  to  injure  me,  and  that 
my  wife  will  help  him  along  with  the 
scheme,  I  '11  begin  to  put  them  out  of 
reach ! " 

Snatching  up  Sebastian's  music  bag, 
Christoff,  too  impatient  to  loose  its 
fastenings  of  hook  and  tape,  ripped  it 
apart,  seized  his  roll  of  manuscript,  thrust 
it  into  the  shelf  of  a  side  cupboard, 
slammed  the  steel  wicker  door,  locked  it 
grimly,  and  pocketed  the  key. 

"  Let 's  have  dinner,"  he  growled, 
drawing  out  his  chair  noisily,  and  drop- 
ping into  his  place  at  table  without  a 
glance  toward  either  member  of  his 
household. 

Mrs.  Bach  brought  on  the  steaming 
goose,  but  everybody  was  dismally  un- 
comfortable throughout  the  meal.  The 
organist's  rosy-cheeked  wife  tried  to 
banish  the  gloom  by  speaking  cheerily 
upon  subjects  not  akin  to  music ;  but 
Christoff  wxmld  not  reply,  and  Sebastian 
could  not,  so  her  brave  attempts  soon 
failed,  and  the  room  was  left  in  silence. 
[22] 


THE   VICTOR 

Sebastian's  appetite  was  gone,  and  as 
soon  as  possible  he  hurried  away  to  his 
own  room,  where,  deeply  dejected,  he  sat 
with  his  face  buried  in  his  folded  arms. 

As  the  shade  of  twilight  fell  across  his 
bowed  figure,  a  quick  footstep  sounded 
behind  him,  and  a  soft  hand  was  laid 
upon  his  head. 

"  Come,  Biibchen,"  said  Mrs.  Bach 
kindly,  "  don't  worry  any  more.  Chris- 
toff  did  n't  mean  all  that  he  said  to-day, 
and  he  is  sorry  that  he  spoke  as  he  did. 
See,  I  have  brought  you  a  bowl  of  bread 
and  milk,  for  I  noticed  that  you  ate  no 
dinner.  So  now  forgive  Christoff  for 
what  he  said  when  he  was  angry,  and 
forget  all  that  happened  this  afternoon. 
If  you  act  toward  him  just  as  usual,  he 
will  do  the  same  with  you,  and  we  shall 
all  be  happy  again." 

Sebastian  eagerly  raised  his  head. 

"  He  won't  think  me  a  thief  any 
longer  ? " 

"  No,  no.  Certainly  not.  After  he 
had  cooled  down  a  bit  I  explained  to 
[23] 


BOYS   WHO   BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

him  what  you  meant  by  borrowing  his 
book,  and  how  hard  you  practised  to 
learn  the  second  fugue  against  his  re- 
turn ;  and  he  said  that  he  believed  that 
you  were  truly  honest,  and  he  was  sorry 
that  he  had  accused  you  wrongfully." 

"  And  he  '11  let  me  use  his  book  here- 
after, and  learn  to  play  the  fugues  ? " 
cried  Sebastian  joyfully. 

Mrs.  Bach  shook  her  head  slowly,  her 
blue  eyes  fixed  sorrowfully  upon  the  boy. 

"No,"  she  said,  "you  cannot  use  his 
book  any  more.  He  said  that  he  would 
never  scold  you  again  for  having  taken  it 
last  week,  but  that  you  must  send  him 
your  promise  never  to  play  out  of  it 
again." 

"  Schwester  ! "  ejaculated  the  boy  in 
keen  distress,  "why  does  he  forbid  me 
to  use  it  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  I  do  not  know." 

"  I  may  as  well  give  up  my  playing 

altogether,  for  I  have  finished  my  own 

pieces ;    Christoff  himself  said  I  might 

leave  them  now,  and  I  have  no  others  to 

[24] 


THE    VICTOR 

study.  Music  is  so  costly  that  I  cannot 
buy  any  for  myself,  —  yes,  I  may  as  well 
forget  that  I  wished  to  be  a  great,  great 
musician.  Schwester ! "  The  boy's  eyes 
kindled  and  his  cheeks  glowed  as  he  con- 
tinued ardently,  — 

"  I  'd  like  to  play  so  wonderfully  by 
the  time  I  'm  a  man  that  whole  audiences 
would  sometimes  smile  and  sometimes 
cry  with  the  sweetness  of  my  music,  and 
little  children  would  drop  their  toys  in 
the  street  and  stand  in  my  garden  listen- 
ing. But  how  can  I  learn  without  any 
music  to  study?" 

"  Buy  a  book  from  the  cantor  with  the 
money  you  earned  to-day  in  the  parade," 
suggested  Mrs.  Bach  hopefully. 

Sebastian  shook  his  head.  "  I  can't," 
he  explained,  "  because  I  gave  half  of  it 
to  Georg  Erdmann,  so  that  he  might  go 
to  Gotha  to  visit  his  grandmother,  and 
I  paid  the  rest  to  a  gardener  for  a  present 
that  I  brought  home  yesterday  for  you." 

Throwing  open  the  door  of  his  closet, 
Sebastian  stepped  inside,  and  quickly 
[25] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

emerged,  bearing  in  his  arms  a  tiny  rose- 
tree  in  full  bloom. 

"  I  got  it  for  your  New  Year's  gift,  and 
meant  to  put  it  on  the  dinner  table, 
but  the  trouble  with  Christoff  made  me 
forget  all  about  it." 

"  Oh,  oh,  it  is  a  beautiful  present,  and 
so  fragrant,  so  fragrant !  But,  Biibchen," 
she  said  in  a  fondly  chiding  tone,  "  you 
should  not  have  spent  your  pennies 
for  me;  I  have  so  much  and  you  so 
little." 

"  I  have  you,  and  —  and  Christoff,  and 
music,"  returned  Sebastian  soberly. 

"You  are  truly  a  man,  and  surely  a 
baby,"  said  Mrs.  Bach,  laughing  merrily. 
At  sound  of  a  voice  from  below  stairs 
she  grew  instantly  serious. 

"Christoff  is  calling  me,  and  I  must 
go  down.  You  promise,  Sebastian,  never 
to  play  out  of  his  book  again  ? " 

The  boy  nodded  quickly. 

"  I  promise,"  he  said. 

After  she  had  gone  Sebastian  sat  for 
hours,  thinking.  Again  and  again  he 
[26] 


THE   VICTOR 

lived  over  the  bitter  scene  of  the  after- 
noon, wincing  painfully  every  time  that 
memory  whispered  the  word  "stole." 
The  murmur  of  voices  below  ceased 
finally,  and  he  realized  that  the  rest  of 
the  household  was  wrapped  in  sleep.  He 
lighted  his  candle  and  tried  to  study  his 
lessons  for  school,  but  a  sense  of  sicken- 
ing disappointment  bore  down  upon  him 
so  heavily  that,  though  his  eyes  sternly 
travelled  the  printed  lines,  his  mindhad 
room  for  no  other  thoughts  than  these,  — 

"  I  cannot  play.     I  have  no  music." 

He  was  startled  from  his  reverie  by  the 
sound  of  a  piteous  whine.  He  listened 
for  a  repetition  of  the  plaint,  and  when 
the  whine  expanded  to  a  howl,  Sebastian 
leaped  from  his  chair,  and  dashed  through 
the  corridor  and  down  the  kitchen  stair, 
with  a  pang  of  recollection. 

"  I  forgot  to  let  Grubel  in,  and  it 's 
bitter  cold  outside  ! " 

He  made  his  way  swiftly  through  the 
dark  room,  unbolted  the  outer  door,  and 
flung  it  wide. 

[27] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

A  huge  St.  Bernard  bounded  into  the 
room,  and  Sebastian,  brushing  the  snow 
from  the  shaggy  coat,  caressed  his  pet 
affectionately. 

"  Now,  Grubel,  Schwester  does  n't  like 
you  to  stay  in  this  room.  Come  along, 
old  fellow,  into  the  passage  ! " 

The  dog  obediently  followed  his  mas- 
ter across  the  dark  kitchen,  and  trotted 
through  the  door  that  Sebastian  held  open 
for  him. 

As  the  boy  sought  the  stairway  again, 
his  attention  was  arrested  by  a  flood  of 
moonlight  pouring  through  the  uncur- 
tained pane  and  illuminating  one  of  the 
much-used  music  sheets  that  had  fallen 
from  the  bag  which  ChristofF  had  thrown 
into  the  window-sill  after  locking  his 
own  book  behind  the  wicker  door. 

"How  bright  the  night  is,"  thought 
Sebastian.  "  One  could  read  the  notes, 
I  believe,  without  a  candle." 

Bending  over  the  pages,  he  found  it 
to  be  quite  true  that  the  dots  and  lines 
were  clearly  definable. 
[28] 


THE   VICTOR 

"  I  wonder  if  I  could  write  well  by 
such  a  light ;  I  '11  try  it,"  and  idly  lifting  a 
pen  from  his  sister's  table,  he  dipped  it 
and  scribbled  his  name  across  the  top  of 
the  music  sheet. 

"  Very  good,"  observed  he,  eying  the 
scrawl  with  admiration ;  then  a  thought 
shot  through  his  brain  that  seemed  to 
turn  him  to  stone,  for  he  stood  motion- 
less, with  head  thrown  back  and  pen 
uplifted,  while  the  silvery  moonlight, 
bathing  him  from  head  to  foot,  transfixed 
him  into  a  marble  statue  of  expectancy. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  could,  I  wonder  if  I 
could  ! "  he  whispered  excitedly.  "  I  '11 
try  now,  this  very  night.  If  I  could  get 
hold  of  Christoff's  fugues,  and  copy  them 
here  in  the  moonlight,  I  should  have 
a  book  of  my  own,  and  still  keep  my 
promise  not  to  play  out  of  his." 

Turning  to  the  cupboard  that  held  the 
coveted  treasure,  Sebastian  gazed  wist- 
fully into  its  second  shelf.  The  doors 
were  of  strong  steel  lattice  work,  and 
Sebastian  saw  that  it  would  be  impos- 
[29] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

sible  either  to  insert  his  hand  through  the 
finely  interlaced  bars,  or  to  bend  them  in 
the  hope  of  securing  a  wider  opening. 

The  boy's  burning  desire  to  obtain  the 
music,  and  his  sense  of  the  justice  of  his 
purpose,  would  not  let  him  draw  back 
without  a  mighty  effort. 

Casting  about  for  some  means  of  assis- 
tance, his  eye  fell  upon  his  brother's 
violin  case.  Opening  this,  he  hastily 
extracted  the  bow,  strong  and  slender, 
inserted  it  between  the  powerful  wires, 
deftly  worked  the  roll  of  music  to  and 
fro,  drawing  it  ever  nearer  until  it  lay 
at  the  outer  edge  of  the  shelf.  Slipping 
one  finger  and  thumb  through  the  mesh, 
he  seized  the  roll  firmly  and  drew  it 
from  the  cabinet.  For  a  moment  he 
could  do  nothing  but  hug  the  volume 
madly  to  his  breast,  in  the  joy  of  his 
accomplishment ;  then  running  noise- 
lessly up  to  his  room  for  copy-paper,  he 
speedily  returned,  spread  the  sheets 
before  him  on  his  sister's  table,  drew  up 
a  chair,  and  set  to  work. 
[30] 


THE   VICTOR 

Swiftly  and  steadily  he  wrote,  bending 
very  low  above  the  page,  that  he  might 
read  his  text  correctly.  He  took  no 
note  of  the  flight  of  time,  but  as  the 
moon  rose  higher  in  the  heavens,  his 
pages  grew  shadowy,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  draw  the  table  into  the  sheen  of  her 
passing  radiance.  The  fire  died  out,  the 
room  grew  cold,  and  the  boy  from  time 
to  time  threw  down  his  pen,  and  beat 
and  blew  upon  his  benumbed  fingers, 
warming  them  to  further  activity. 

At  last  the  light  failed  utterly,  and 
in  the  gloom  Sebastian  rose,  carefully 
rolled  his  brother's  manuscript,  strapped 
it  as  usual,  pushed  it  through  the  lattice, 
adjusted  it  to  its  former  position  by  aid 
of  the  violin  bow,  gathered  up  his  freshly 
written  sheets,  and  crept  cautiously  to 
his  room. 

Next  morning  he  met  his  brother  at 
breakfast,  and  Christoff  secretly  won- 
dered that  the  boy  wore  so  cheerful  a 
countenance.  No  reference  was  made 
to  the  distressing  scene  of  yesterday,  and 
[31] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

the  brothers  set  off  together,  Christoff 
on  his  way  to  a  pupil,  and  Sebastian 
to  school,  quite  as  though  the  painful 
episode  had  not  happened. 

Sebastian  attended  his  various  classes 
like  one  in  a  dream,  for  his  mind  was 
filled  with  his  daring  enterprise,  and  the 
tremendous  effort  he  must  put  forth 
before  his  book  should  be  completed. 

His  zeal  did  not  abate,  and  at  evening 
he  waited  breathlessly  until  the  house- 
hold fell  into  heavy  slumber  ;  then  once 
again  he  stole  down  to  the  kitchen, 
arranged  his  materials  at  the  window, 
and  toiled  feverishly  until  the  white  light 
faded. 

Night  after  night  he  repeated  his 
adventurous  vigil,  and  no  one  of  the 
family  suspected  that  anything  extraor- 
dinary was  taking  place  in  the  house. 

To  Sebastian's  surprise,  he  discovered 
that  the  moon  rose  later  each  night ;  and 
ere  long  he  was  obliged  to  wait  up  so 
late  for  his  shimmering  torch  that  he 
was  forced  to  bathe  his  face  in  icy  water, 
[32] 


THE   VICTOR 

tramp  up  and  down  his  chamber,  and 
bite  his  tongue  severely  in  order  to  keep 
awake.  Even  these  heroic  measures 
failed  when  the  moon  was  delayed  until 
the  middle  of  the  night ;  and  Sebastian 
realized  with  dismay  that  he  must  set 
his  work  aside  until  the  time  in  the 
following  month  when  his  friendly  lan- 
tern would  begin  again  to  mount  the 
sky  at  an  early  hour. 

Laboring  with  such  hindrances  as  dim 
and  fleeting  light,  nearsighted  eyes,  loss 
of  sleep,  and  piercing  cold,  the  lad's 
progress  was  necessarily  slow.  Week 
after  week,  month  after  month,  he  con- 
tinued at  his  weighty  task ;  but  never 
once  did  his  interest  flag  nor  his  patience 
fail.  His  organ  lessons  with  Christoff 
were  carried  on  in  a  half-hearted  fash- 
ion, old  selections  being  rehearsed,  and 
studies  previously  finished,  indifferently 
played  and  heard.  Had  not  Sebastian 
been  fired  with  a  dominant  purpose,  and 
bent  upon  mastering  his  art  at  any  cost 
to  himself,  he  would  doubtless,  at  this 
3  [33] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

period  of  cold  laxity  on  his  teacher's 
part,  have  abandoned  his  music  alto- 
gether. But  deep  in  his  breast  there 
was  rooted  a  desire  so  strong,  a  hope  so 
pure,  that  even  Christoff's  unjust  denial 
had  not  power  to  discourage  him. 

If  the  elder  Bach  had  been  less  orderly 
in  his  habits,  Sebastian  would  not  always 
have  found  the  manuscript  within  reach  ; 
but  though  Christoff  took  it  daily  from 
the  cabinet,  he  always  returned  it  pre- 
cisely to  the  place  and  position  which  it 
had  occupied  before. 

One  night  Sebastian  barely  escaped 
detection.  He  had  just  descended  to 
the  kitchen,  and  was  groping  about  for 
the  violin  box,  when  accidentally  he 
stumbled  upon  the  hearth-rug,  and  over- 
turned a  chair  with  a  great  clatter. 
Christoff,  roused  by  the  unwonted  noise, 
bounded  from  his  bed  and  made  for  the 
stair,  pausing  just  long  enough  on  the 
way  to  light  a  candle. 

Sebastian  was  appalled  at  hearing  his 
brother's  step.  Dropping  to  the  floor, 
[34] 


THE   VICTOR 

he  crept  hastily  under  the  dining-table, 
convinced  that  its  drapery  would  not 
screen  him  from  his  brother's  eagle  eye. 
He  shook  from  head  to  foot,  not  with 
fear  of  punishment,  but  with  dread  of 
losing  his  chance  at  the  fugues. 

Christoff,  however,  came  only  half- 
way down,  and  stood  upon  the  stair, 
holding  the  candle  high  above  his  head 
and  peering  about  the  dusky  kitchen  for 
traces  of  intruders.  Nothing  out  of  the 
ordinary  greeted  his  gaze,  for  Sebastian 
had  hastily  righted  the  chair  before  beat- 
ing his  retreat,  and  the  music  roll  had 
not  yet  been  taken  from  the  cupboard. 
The  organist,  perceiving  no  mark  of 
robbers,  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  and 
quickly  repaired  to  his  room,  deciding 
that  the  disturbance  must  have  been  an 
ugly  dream. 

Six  months  had  glided  slowly  by, 
bringing  their  gifts  of  increasing  warmth 
and  fragrance,  when,  one  clear  midsum- 
mer's night,  Sebastian  finished  his  book. 
He  was  so  beset  with  agitation  upon 
[35] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

discovering  that  only  one  page  remained 
to  be  copied  that  he  could  scarcely  com- 
mand himself  to  pen  the  finishing  notes. 

"  I  'm  almost  done,"  he  murmured 
over  and  over,  as  his  quill  flew  across 
the  paper.  "  One  line  more,  and  the 
fugues  will  be  mine !  Now,  a  single 
measure,  a  single  measure !  One  note 
—  ah  —  it  is  done,  it  is  done  !  " 

The  monument  to  little  Bach's  cour- 
age and  fidelity  was  built. 

The  pen  dropped  from  his  aching  fin- 
gers, and,  overcome  with  weariness,  he 
laid  down  his  head  beside  the  closely 
written  sheets  and  fell  asleep. 

His  friend,  the  moon,  shone  upon  him 
brightly  for  a  time,  and  in  her  pearly 
beams  the  tired  child's  face  was  as  white 
as  the  page  beside  it.  Even  she  with- 
drew at  length,  and  nothing  disturbed 
the  silence  of  the  room  but  the  regular 
breathing  of  the  sleeper. 

He  was  awakened  by  a  voice  ex- 
claiming, — 

"  Biibchen,  what  are  you  doing  here  ? " 
[36] 


"Sebastian  started  up,  bewildered." 


THE   VICTOR 

Sebastian  started  up,  bewildered,  for 
Mrs.  Bach  stood  beside  him,  and  the 
kitchen  was  blazing  with  sunshine. 

"I  —  I  don't  understand,"  whispered 
he,  dazed  by  the  brightness  and  the 
woman's  presence. 

Mrs.  Bach  laughed  and  shook  him 
good-naturedly. 

"  You  're  still  asleep,  that 's  what  is 
the  matter.  See,  it's  breakfast  time, 
and  I  am  ready  to  put  the  kettle  on. 
What  have  you  been  doing  here  ? " 

Sebastian  merely  pointed  to  his  final 
page,  lying  next  ChristofFs,  and  Mrs. 
Bach  gathered  the  truth  at  once. 

Up  went  her  hands  in  astonishment, 
but  prudence  stifled  the  comments  that 
rose  to  her  lips. 

"  Quick  !  Run  up  to  your  room  with 
your  papers,  and  I  '11  get  this  roll  back 
into  the  cabinet.  Hurry,  for  Christoff 
will  be  down  in  a  minute ! " 

Sebastian  obeyed,  and  from  the  bot- 
tom of  the  stairs  Mrs.  Bach  called  him 
as  usual  when  breakfast  was  ready. 
[37] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

The  following  months  were  filled  with 
delight  for  Sebastian,  who  studied  his 
fugues  with  ever-deepening  happiness. 
For  this  practice,  he  intentionally  chose 
the  hour  when  his  brother  was  engaged 
in  teaching  at  a  distant  quarter  of  the 
town.  Every  day,  when  Christoff  set 
off  to  the  house  of  his  pupil,  Sebastian 
would  hurry  to  the  church,  and  play 
from  his  precious  book  until  time  for  the 
organist  to  return  for  his  own  organ- 
work. 

Winter  had  come  again  to  Ohrdruf, 
and  one  day  Sebastian  climbed  to  the 
organ-loft,  placed  his  cherished  book 
upon  the  rack,  and  began  to  play  the 
Pachelbel  fugues. 

Mrs.  Bach,  walking  in  the  street, 
heard  the  music  and  entered  the  church. 
Passing  up  the  stair,  she  drew  a  stool 
from  a  shadowy  corner  and  sat  down  to 
listen  and  enjoy. 

Sebastian  welcomed   her  with   a  nod 
and  smile,  for  the  sympathy  of  his  sister- 
in-law  was  his  daily  comfort. 
[38] 


THE    VICTOR 

One  number  after  another  he  played, 
and  the  harmonies  swelling  from  the  or- 
gan at  touch  of  his  flying  fingers  vi- 
brated through  the  sacred  place  from 
threshold  to  chancel. 

Musician  and  listener  were  so  ab- 
sorbed that  they  failed  to  hear  a  footfall 
upon  the  stair,  and  both  were  unaware 
that  a  third  presence  was  added  to  the 
gallery. 

Like  a  thunderbolt  out  of  a  blue 
heaven  came  a  derisive  hoot  in  Sebas- 
tian's ear.  His  hands  were  grasped  as 
in  a  vise,  and  Christoff  s  face  bent  men- 
acingly above  him. 

"  Again,  again,  again,"  thundered  the 
organist ;  "  again  you  have  stolen  my 
book,  despite  your  promise  !  " 

Sebastian  struggled  to  his  feet,  and 
confronted  his  accuser  quietly. 

"  I  have  not  stolen  your  book.  This 
one  is  mine." 

"  Yours,"  sneered  Christoff ;  "  pray, 
where  did  you  get  a  book  of  Pachelbel's 
fugues  ? " 

[39] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Further  concealment  was  useless,  now 
that  his  brother  had  discovered  the  ex- 
istence of  his  manuscript,  so  Sebastian  in 
a  few  words  told  the  story  of  his  painful 
and  valiant  achievement. 

Christoff  listened  amazedly,  but  no  re- 
lenting gleam  softened  his  look  of  scorn. 
He  laughed  harshly  when  the  tale  was 
ended,  and,  catching  the  fated  book 
from  the  rack,  rolled  it  tightly  and 
crowded  it  into  his  leathern  girdle. 

"  I  '11  end  this  pretty  business  at  once," 
he  shouted,  bringing  his  teeth  together 
with  a  snap.  "  Finding  that  steel  lattices 
are  not  sufficient  protection  against  your 
prying  fingers,  I  '11  lock  my  book  behind 
a  door  of  solid  iron,  and,"  triumphantly 
tapping  the  volume  in  his  belt,  "  1 11  put 
this  one  along  with  it  for  safe  keeping." 

"  Christoff,  husband  ! "  cried  Mrs. 
Bach,  her  voice  breaking  into  sobs  ;  "  do 
not  be  so  cruel  as  to  take  his  book  away. 
He  has  worked  so  long,  so  hard  — 

She  ended  her  defence  abruptly  as  her 
eyes  fell  upon  the  boy. 
[40] 


THE    VICTOR 

No  trace  of  passion  or  grief  distorted 
Sebastian's  features,  but,  instead,  his 
countenance  was  singularly  serene. 
Turning  toward  his  brother  with  a  smile 
of  mysterious  power  and  sweetness,  he 
said,  — 

"  You  may  lock  my  book  behind 
twenty  iron  doors  if  you  wish,  Christoff, 
but  the  music  is  all  written  in  my  heart. 
You  can  bury  my  volume  in  the  earth 
or  the  ocean,  but  you  never  can  take  the 
fugues  away  from  me  again,  for  I  have 
memorized  them,  every  one." 

Many  years  later  King  Frederick  II. 
of  Prussia  assembled  his  brilliant  court 
in  the  throne  room  at  Potsdam  to  listen 
to  a  concert  arranged  by  the  musicians 
of  the  royal  palace. 

The  program  was  but  fairly  begun 
when  a  page  entered  the  hall,  and 
dropped  upon  his  knee  before  the  king, 
with  a  whispered  message. 

Frederick  bent  with  impatience  toward 
the  lad  who  had  dared  to  bring  a  petition 
[41] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

from  any  one  at  a  moment  so  ill  chosen, 
and  was  about  to  dismiss  him  abruptly, 
when  his  ear  caught  one  word  of  the 
boy's  tremulous  speech. 

The  monarch's  look  of  annoyance 
changed  to  one  of  joyful  surprise,  and 
rising  quickly,  he  commanded  the  mu- 
sicians to  instant  silence. 

"  Bach  has  come,"  declared  the  king  in 
exultant  tone  ;  "  Bach  has  come ;  the 
mighty  maker  of  music.  Bring  him 
hither  that  we  may  do  him  homage  1 " 

A  hundred  exclamations  greeted  the 
king's  announcement,  and  presently  a 
man  of  distinguished  appearance  and 
quiet  dignity  was  ushered  into  the 
apartment. 

Down  from  his  throne  stepped  the 
king,  advancing  half-way  up  the  hall  to 
meet  the  new-comer.  By  a  quick  ges- 
ture, he  forbade  the  stranger  to  bend  the 
knee,  but  said  simply,  — 

"  Play  for  us." 

Without  a  word  the  visitor  sat  down 
before  the  piano,  and  speedily  the  room 
[42] 


THE   VICTOR 

was  filled  with  such  music  as  had  never 
before  been  heard  in  the  king's  palace. 

Frederick  would  not  permit  him  to 
leave  the  instrument,  but  sat  close  by,  in 
rapt  enjoyment,  while  Bach  gave  one  after 
another  of  his  marvellous  compositions. 

"  For  a  long,  long  time  I  have  known 
of  you,  Sebastian  Bach,"  murmured  the 
king,  when  at  last  they  parted  for  the 
night.  "  Strange  tales  have  come  to  my 
ears  of  the  court  composer  of  Poland  and 
Saxony.  I  have  heard  of  the  princes 
who  are  proud  to  take  you  by  the  hand  ; 
of  the  beggars  that  listen  in  companies 
before  your  door ;  but  I  never  imagined 
that  music  could  be  such  music  as  you 
have  given  us  here." 

That  night,  had  the  palace  of  Potsdam 
had  heart  to  feel  and  brain  to  under- 
stand, it  surely  would  have  throbbed 
with  hospitality,  for  within  its  well-de- 
fended walls  slept  two  who  led  the  world 
in  thought  and  action  :  one  was  Frederick 
the  Great ;  the  other,  Bach  the  Victor. 

[43] 


"THE  LITTLE    BOY  AT 
ABERDEEN " 

[BYRON] 

VACATION'S  here!  Vacation's 
here ! "  shouted  George  Byron, 
bursting  into  the  room  and  throwing 
his  books  upon  the  table. 

"  And  a  pity  it  is,"  returned  his 
mother  coldly ;  "  you  are  so  bad  at 
numbers  that  you  ought  to  be  at  school 
every  day  in  the  year." 

George  flushed  deeply,  but  did  not 
reply.  He  had  learned  that  when  Mrs. 
Byron  wore  this  worried  expression  it 
was  wiser  of  him  to  keep  silence. 
Doubtless  she  had  received  one  of  those 
troublesome  business  letters  again.  Such 
missives  always  did  disturb  matters  in 
the  Aberdeen  apartment,  often  causing 
Mrs.  Byron  to  speak  sharply  to  those 
about  her. 

This  lady  had  belonged  to  the  Gor- 
dons, one  of  the  proudest  families  in 
[44] 


"THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

Scotland ;  and  upon  her  marriage  with 
handsome  Jack  Byron,  her  fortune  was 
seized  to  pay  his  numerous  debts.  Con- 
sequently, at  her  husband's  death  a  few 
years  later,  Mrs.  Byron  was  left  in  the 
city  of  Aberdeen  with  scarcely  enough 
to  keep  herself  and  her  child  from  want. 
The  tiny  rooms  in  Broad  Street  were 
filled  with  the  massive  furniture  and 
costly  vases,  mirrors,  and  china  that  Mrs. 
Byron  had  brought  from  her  father's 
house  at  her  bridal ;  but  the  cupboard 
was  scantily  provisioned,  and  much 
thought  and  labor  were  required  to  keep 
George's  apparel  in  trim  for  school. 
While,  however,  Mrs.  Byron  spent  only 
pennies  where  her  neighbors  lavished 
pounds,  her  brain  and  fingers  contrived 
so  successfully  that  neither  she  nor  the 
lad  ever  presented  a  shabby  appearance. 

"  Come,  George,"  said  the  lady  more 
gently,  repenting  her  impatience,  "put 
your  books  away,  and  May  will  serve  tea 
at  once." 

The  boy's  face  brightened,  and  whis- 
[45] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

tling  softly,  he  crossed  the  room  to  the 
bookshelves.  The  odd  slide  and  sudden 
halt  with  which  he  moved,  together  with 
the  stout  cane  upon  which  he  leaned, 
betokened  that  "  the  little  boy  at  Aber- 
deen "  was  not  quite  like  other  boys. 

Sadly  enough,  George  Byron  was 
lame,  a  burden  very  hard  for  an  impetu- 
ous lad  to  bear.  He  was,  however,  too 
plucky  ever  to  allude  to  his  affliction  in 
the  presence  of  his  playmates,  but  car- 
ried his  misfortune  bravely  and  inde- 
pendently as  long  as  his  companions 
seemed  to  forget  it,  and  seldom  was  any 
of  them  so  unkind  as  to  mention  his 
crooked  feet.  Athletic  sports  were  his 
chief  delight,  although  there  were  few 
that  he  could  enter.  At  running,  leap- 
ing, and  dancing  he  was  helpless,  always 
forced  to  stand  aside  and  watch  when 
these  were  in  progress ;  but  he  was  an 
expert  archer,  could  throw  farther  than 
any  boy  at  the  grammar  school,  and 
with  the  sling  his  marksmanship  was 
astonishing.  He  was  a  prime  favorite 
[46] 


"THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

with  all  the  boys  at  school  and  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Broad  Street,  and  he 
was  thoroughly  accustomed  to  the  role, 
for  his  handsome  face  and  fun-loving 
disposition  speedily  won  admiration 
wherever  he  went. 

He  gayly  joined  the  boys  in  their 
pranks  and  adventures,  often  with  his 
ringing  voice  and  daring  spirit  command- 
ing the  expeditions,  but,  to  the  lads' 
amazement,  he  found  his  best  enjoyment 
in  the  company  of  a  little  girl  named 
Mary  Duff.  She  was  such  a  pretty  child 
that  passers-by  often  turned  to  look 
after  her,  and  her  soft  voice  and  sweet 
manner  showed  her  to  be  a  real  little 
gentlewoman.  The  mothers  approved 
of  this  friendship,  for  they  said  that 
Mary  improved  George's  manners,  and 
that  George  helped  Mary  with  her 
reading.  The  children  loved  each  other 
dearly,  and  seldom  did  there  pass  a  day 
when  they  two  were  not  seen  together. 
To-night,  at  bedtime,  George  said : 
"  Wake  me  early,  please,  mother,  for 
[47] 


HOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Mary,  Aladdin,  and  I  are  going  to  spend 
the  day  by  the  river." 

Mrs.  Byron  promised,  and  accordingly 
the  next  morning  George  felt  himself 
being  shaken  by  the  shoulder,  while  from 
the  midst  of  a  dream  he  heard  his  mother 
say, — 

"  Wake  up,  wake  up !  This  is  the 
third  time  that  I  have  called  you,  and 
Mary  is  already  here." 

Up  sprang  George,  all  drowsiness  put 
to  flight.  When  he  had  dressed  him- 
self and  finished  his  bowl  of  oatmeal,  he 
joined  Mary  in  the  drawing-room  with 
a  tin  box  of  sandwiches,  and  an  apple 
in  each  pocket. 

The  visitor  bore  a  small  basket  con- 
taining her  contributions  to  the  lun- 
cheon ;  and  as  she  slipped  off  the  sofa  at 
George's  entrance  her  pinafore  and  little 
sunbonnet  rustled  loudly  in  their  starchy 
crispness. 

Down  the  stairs  hurried  the  pair,  bent 
upon    calling  for    Aladdin,    the    third 
member  of  their  company. 
[48] 


"THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

As  they  reached  the  street,  George  was 
accosted  by  Bobby  Black,  who,  with  a 
group  of  neighboring  boys,  was  emerging 
from  his  gate  opposite. 

"  Come  on,  Byron,  we  're  going  to 
watch  the  cricket  game  in  Murdoch's 
field ! " 

George  shook  his  head  decisively. 

"  I  'm  going  somewhere  else." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  Ho,  ho  ! "  jeered  the  boys 
in  chorus,  and  Bobby  called  out  in  a 
teasing  tone, — 

"  Oh,  you  'd  rather  go  with  Mary  Duff 
than  with  us.  You  're  Mary  Duff's  beau  1 
Ha,  ha  !  You  're  Mary  Duff's  beau  ! " 

The  little  girl  crimsoned  with  annoy- 
ance at  Bobby's  silly  taunt,  but  George 
retorted  quickly,— 

"  Well,  you  can't  be  Mary  Duff's  beau 
until  you  learn  to  wash  your  hands." 

The  laugh  turned  on  Bobby,  and 
George  and  Mary  set  off  in  quest  of 
comrade  number  three. 

As  they  approached  a  square  stone 
building,  a  man  standing  before  its  open 
[49] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

door  disappeared  within,  only  to  return 
immediately,  leading  Aladdin,  the  most 
captivating  of  Shetland  ponies. 

This  animal  was  George's  one  impor- 
tant possession,  but  instead  of  a  play- 
thing, it  had  been  purchased  for  the  boy's 
convenience  in  getting  about.  George's 
poor  feet  made  walks  of  any  great  length 
painful  undertakings,  but  sitting  on 
Aladdin's  back,  he  could  go  as  far  and 
as  swiftly  as  he  desired. 

The  pony  was  black  and  satiny  for  the 
most  part,  but  upon  his  forehead  a  small 
white  patch  was  to  be  seen,  and  his  mane 
and  tail  were  snowy.  He  was  so  fond  of 
his  master  that  he  would  follow  him 
about  like  a  kitten ;  and  he  always  whin- 
nied joyfully  whenever  the  boy  appeared 
at  the  stable  door. 

George  tied  his  box  and  Mary's  bas- 
ket to  the  small  red  saddle,  and  turned 
to  his  companion. 

"  We  '11  ride  and  tie,  of  course.  You 
mount  first,  and  leave  him  at  Baillie's 
stile." 

[50] 


"THE   LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

Stooping,  as  he  had  read  that  the  great 
lairds  did,  he  allowed  Mary  to  place 
her  chubby  foot  in  his  clasped  hands. 
Then,  with  her  agile  spring,  he  landed 
her  securely  on  Aladdin's  back.  She 
gathered  up  the  reins  and  trotted  away, 
while  George  took  up  his  walking  stick 
and  limped  slowly  after  her. 

Their  plan  was  the  old  one,  followed 
often  by  farmers  and  mountaineers,  when 
two  persons  travel  with  one  horse.  One 
rides  to  a  certain  point,  dismounts,  ties 
the  horse  and  walks  on,  while  the  other 
trudges  along  on  foot  until  he  comes  to 
the  place  where  the  horse  is  waiting, 
when  he  mounts  and  rides  to  a  second 
stopping-place,  secures  the  animal  for  his 
friend,  and  once  more  tramps  on  his  way. 
Thus,  by  changes  of  walking  and  riding, 
a  goodly  journey  can  be  accomplished 
with  less  fatigue  than  might  be  supposed. 

To-day  the  playmates  proceeded  along 

the  wooded  shore  of  the  river  Dee,  at  no 

great  distance  from  home,  but  far  enough 

that  they  were  able  to  walk  on  the  soft 

[51] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

earth,  to  stand  in  a  forest  of  mighty 
trees,  and  to  bask  in  sunshine  undimmed 
by  the  city's  smoke  and  grime. 

The  journey  was  a  difficult  one  for 
George,  for  he  insisted  upon  walking  his 
full  share  of  the  way,  and,  hopping  along 
with  his  stout  cane,  he  would  sometimes 
be  obliged  to  lean  heavily  against  a  tree 
or  rock,  panting  violently  and  clutching 
at  his  support  with  both  hands.  He 
dared  not  drop  down  on  the  mossy  bank, 
lest  with  no  one  near  to  lend  him  a  hand 
he  might  not  manage  to  get  up  again. 
So,  after  but  two  or  three  turns  of 
marching,  George  sat  down  upon  a  stump 
and  waited  for  Mary  and  Aladdin  to 
come  up  with  him. 

The  pony,  with  his  dainty  sunbonneted 
rider,  soon  came  into  view,  and  George 
hailed  them  from  the  roadside. 

"  Hi !  Let 's  stay  here.  Don't  you 
think  we  have  gone  far  enough  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary,  pushing  back  her 
bonnet  and  glancing  about  the  quiet 
place,  where  dazzling  sunbeams  pierced 
[52] 


"  THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

through  the  leafy  ceiling  and  lightened 
the  carpet  of  gay  green  moss  ;  "  do  let 's 
stay  here ;  it  seems  nice  and  far." 

Whereupon  the  lady  slipped  from  her 
saddle,  and  leaving  Aladdin  to  his  own 
devices,  after  prudently  freeing  him  of  box 
and  basket,  joined  George  on  the  stump. 

"What  shall  we  do  first  ? "  she  queried. 

"Let's  throw  clay  balls,"  suggested 
George,  rising  quickly. 

"  Let 's  !  "  agreed  Mary.  So  together 
they  scrambled  down  the  river  bank,  and 
heaped  a  piece  of  driftwood  with  stiff 
clay.  Returning,  George  cut  two  slen- 
der switches  from  a  willow-tree  and  pre- 
sented one  to  his  partner.  Then  he 
rolled  a  bit  of  clay  into  a  marble-sized 
ball,  pressed  it  firmly  on  the  tip  of  the 
rod,  and,  with  a  quick  fling,  sent  the  ball 
far  out  into  the  river. 

George  wielded  his  twig  so  dexterously 
that  he  could  tap  a  mast  in  a  passing 
boat,  and  selecting  almost  any  tree,  stone, 
or  sail  within  a  range  of  two  hundred 
yards,  could  send  his  pudgy  bullet  home. 
[53] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

His  cheeks  soon  glowed  with  the  fun 
and  exercise,  and  at  every  swish  of  the 
withe  he  called  his  comrade  to  bear  wit- 
ness to  his  unerring  aim. 

Mary,  following  his  example,  faith- 
fully loaded  her  switch  and  let  fly  at 
every  target  that  her  fancy  chose.  Her 
success,  however,  was  not  brilliant,  for 
her  ball  seldom  soared  beyond  the  shad- 
ows of  the  trees  under  which  they  sat, 
and  never  by  any  chance  approached  the 
object  she  had  intended  to  hit.  After 
numerous  fruitless  efforts,  she  laid  aside 
her  wand  and  brought  from  her  basket  a 
rag-doll  which  George  had  christened 
"  Heatheress." 

Luncheon  followed,  and  when  Mary 
had  spread  the  repast  on  a  napkin,  she 
said,  — 

"  Let 's  play  house  while  we  eat,  and 
I  '11  be  the  mother,  and  you  be  the  father, 
and  Heatheress  will  be  the  baby,  and 
Aladdin  —  oh,  yes,  Aladdin  will  be  the 
visitor." 

Now  George  would  have  writhed  with 
[54] 


"THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

shame  had  the  boys  at  school  heard  of 
his  entering  into  such  girlish  pastimes  as 
this,  but  Mary  was  always  so  ready  to  join 
any  game  that  he  suggested,  no  mat- 
ter how  much  she  might  dislike  it,  that 
he  felt  in  duty  bound  to  play  her  plays 
a  part  of  the  time.  Besides,  Mary  Duff 
was  so  sweet,  so  winsome,  that  George 
found  it  hard  to  refuse  anything  that  she 
asked  ;  so  he  played  "  house  "  with  a  will, 
and  enjoyed  it  nearly  as  much  as  she. 

"  Mr.  Aladdin,"  called  Mistress  Mary, 
as  she  gathered  her  family  about  the 
board,  "  please  don't  take  the  trouble  to 
come  downstairs ;  I  have  just  sent  your 
luncheon  up  to  your  room." 

The  guest  was  evidently  pleased  with 
the  arrangement,  for  he  ate  heartily  of 
the  delicious  green  things  that  he  found 
in  his  apartment. 

When  the  children  had  finished,  they 
withdrew  to  the  screen  of  a  blasted  oak 
and  sat  rigidly  still,  watching  the  birds 
fly  down  and  carry  away  the  crumbs  of 
the  feast. 

[55] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Later,  they  made  little  rafts  of  chips 
gathered  from  the  river,  furnished  them 
with  paper  sails  and  pebbly  cargoes,  and 
set  them  afloat  for  Spain,  Africa,  and 
Jamaica. 

Finally,  George  drew  from  the  breast 
of  his  jacket  a  faded,  ragged  book,  and 
lay  in  the  grass  reading  aloud  from  his 
favorite  story  of  Robert  Bruce,  while 
Mary  leaned  against  a  tree  near  by  and 
listened.  Before  the  reader  had  reached 
the  climax  of  the  tale,  he  glanced  over 
his  book,  only  to  discover  the  little  girl 
fast  asleep  against  her  tree,  with  her  lap 
full  of  wild  flowers.  Forbearing  to  dis- 
turb her,  George  finished  the  story  in 
silence.  Then  the  book  slipped  from  his 
hands  and  he,  too,  stretched  on  the  cool 
grass,  with  a  few  stray  sunbeams  flicker- 
ing across  him,  sank^down,  down,  to  the 
land  of  dreams. 

A  sociable  whinny  roused  the  boy  at 
length,  and  scrambling  up  by  aid  of  a  slen- 
der sapling,  he  noticed  that  the  shadows 
had  greatly  lengthened  during  his  nap. 
[56] 


'  Lay  in  the  grass  reading  aloud  from  his  favorite  story. 


"THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

"  Wake  up,  Mary,"  he  called,  tweaking 
one  of  her  brown  curls ;  "  I  promised 
your  mother  that  I  would  bring  you  back 
by  five  o'clock,  and  we  must  go  now." 

Mary  assented,  as  she  usually  did  to 
whatever  George  proposed,  and  in  five 
minutes  she  had  sprung  into  the  red 
saddle  and  cantered  off  to  the  first 
tying-place. 

"  Where 's  mother  ? "  cried  George, 
entering  the  house  half  an  hour  later. 

"  She 's  gone  to  Mrs.  McCurdie's  for 
tea,"  replied  May  Gray,  the  Scotch  wo- 
man who  had  been  George's  nurse. 

"Then  I'll  get  Mary  to  come  and 
have  tea  with  me,"  and  Master  Byron 
hurried  down  the  stairs  and  through  his 
neighbor's  gate.  He  returned  shortly, 
bringing  Mary  with  him ;  and  the  chil- 
dren were  in  the  midst  of  their  meal, 
when  the  street  door  was  thrown  hastily 
open  and  Mrs.  Byron  stepped  into  the 
room.  Her  cheeks  were  scarlet,  and  her 
eyes  flashing  with  excitement. 

"What  is  it,  mother?"  demanded 
[57] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

George,  rising,  alarmed  by  her  visible 
agitation. 

Mrs.  Byron  placed  both  hands  upon 
his  shoulders,  and  looking  down  into  his 
eyes,  said  hurriedly,  — 

"Your  great-uncle,  Lord  Byron,  is 
dead  ;  and  you,  George,  are  now  Lord 
Byron  of  Rochdale,  master  of  Newstead 
Abbey,  and  chief  of  the  Erneis." 

The  boy  looked  bewildered,  and  rest- 
ing one  hand  upon  the  table  for  sup- 
port, he  bent  earnestly  toward  his 
mother. 

"  /  am  Lord  Byron  ?  " 

"  You  are  !  you  are  !  Mrs.  McCurdie 
has  just  come  from  Newstead,  and  she 
told  me  that  uncle  died  nearly  a  month 
ago.  There  has  been  some  mistake,  else 
we  should  have  heard  of  it  before.  I 
never  knew  the  old  gentleman,  for  he 
and  poor  Jack  were  not  the  best  of 
friends,  but  I  cannot  think  that  he 
would  have  had  us  left  in  ignorance  of 
his  death.  Doubtless  the  letters  and 
papers  will  come  very  soon,  and  then,  my 
[58] 


"THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

lord,  you  can  go  to  England  and  take 
possession  of  your  castle." 

"  It  —  is  —  very  —  strange,"  murmured 
the  boy.  Always  he  had  known  that 
some  day  he  would  probably  come  into  his 
uncle's  title  and  estates,  but  he  had  some- 
how expected  the  momentous  event  to  de- 
lay its  happening  until  he  should  become 
a  man.  That  honor  and  riches  should 
at  this  time  come  to  him,  little  George 
Byron,  of  Broad  Street,  Aberdeen,  was 
an  overwhelming  surprise.  True  to  his 
nature,  whenever  deeply  moved  by  joy  or 
sorrow,  he  grew  silent,  trying  to  settle  in 
his  own  mind  whether  he  was  the  same 
boy  who  had  thrown  clay  balls  in  the 
woods  that  day. 

Mrs.  Byron  rapidly  explained  some  of 
the  changes  to  come,  and  George  listened 
as  though  stunned  by  the  glories  of  his 
prospects. 

May  Gray,  his  devoted  old  nurse, 
slipped  out  and  imparted  the  news  of 
her  dear  boy's  succession  to  all  whom 
she  met. 

[59] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Presently  neighbors  and  friends  came 
flocking  in  to  hear  the  story.  The 
drawing-room  became  quickly  crowded 
with  guests,  and  they  made  so  much  of 
George,  shaking  his  hand,  patting  his 
head,  bowring  to  him,  and  offering  com- 
pliments he  did  not  understand,  that  the 
boy  began  to  think  being  a  lord  was 
rather  tiresome  business. 

When  they  departed,  George  closed 
the  door  upon  the  last  one  with  a  loud 
sigh  of  relief,  and  went  in  search  of 
Mary,  with  whom  he  had  not  spoken 
since  his  mother  had  arrived  with  her 
astounding  message. 

The  little  girl  sat  demurely  on  a  low 
stool,  and  as  George  approached  her,  she 
rose  and  backed  timidly  away. 

The  boy  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked. 

"1  —  I  must  go  home,"  she  whis- 
pered, making  for  the  door. 

"  No,   you   must  n't !       Your  mother 
said  you  were  to  wait  until  your  father 
called  for  you.     It 's  terribly  early  yet." 
[GO] 


"THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

"But  I  must  go,"  insisted  the  child, 
with  her  hand  upon  the  knob. 

"Mary!" 

George's  tone  was  suddenly  masterful. 
"  Are  you  mad  at  me  ?  " 

"  No,  oh,  no,"  she  replied,  shaking  her 
head  vigorously. 

"  Well,  something  makes  you  seem 
very  queer.  If  you  're  not  mad,  tell  me 
why  you  're  starting  home  !  " 

Mary  looked  at  him  steadily  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  her  brown  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  her  chin  began  to  quiver,  and  she 
sobbed  out,  — 

"  I  can't  play  with  you  any  more, 
George,  because  your  mother  said  you 
were  —  a  lord,  and  —  awful  rich  !  " 

Down  went  her  face  into  the  circle  of 
her  chubby  arm. 

"  Mary,  don't  cry,  please  don't  cry  ! " 
entreated  George  with  a  suspicious  break 
in  his  own  voice.  "  I  like  you  the  very 
same,  the  very  same,  and  I  'in  just  as  I 
was,  Mary.  Truly  I  am." 

Perceiving  with  distress  that  the  little 
[61] 


BOYS   WHO   BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

maid's  plump  shoulders  still  shook  with 
grief,  George  regarded  her  uncertainly 
for  a  moment,  then  hurried  across  to 
Mrs.  Byron,  who  sat  busily  writing  at 
her  desk. 

"  Mother,"  he  inquired  anxiously,  "  do 
you  see  any  difference  in  me  since  1 
have  been  made  a  lord?" 

"  No,"  replied  she,  laughing,  without 
looking  up,  "  certainly  not." 

"  There  !  I  told  you  !  "  he  exclaimed 
triumphantly,  returning  to  the  side  of 
his  sorrowful  guest.  "  You  will  believe 
mother,  won't  you?" 

A  nod  of  the  head  against  the  pinafore 
sleeve  rewarded  him.  Then  from  the 
depths  of  the  elbow  came  in  a  choking 
voice,  — 

"  But,  George,  you  are  going  away  !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  returned  sadly,  "  I  am  go- 
ing away." 

A  fresh  outburst  of  weeping  greeted 
his  admission,  and  at  his  wits'  end  for 
means  to  comfort  the  little  woman,  he 
declared,  — 

[62] 


"THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

"  When  I  leave,  Mary,  1 11  give  Alad- 
din to  you." 

"  Oh,  George,  Aladdin  !  " 

Up  came  the  tear-stained  face,  dim- 
pling with  joy  and  surprise. 

"  Yes,  Aladdin.  And  whenever  you 
ride  him,  it  will  be  just  as  nice  as  play- 
ing with  me,  won't  it  now  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  assented  graciously. 

"And,  Mary,"  went  on  the  boy  ear- 
nestly, the  while  something  tugged  hard 
at  his  heart  and  threatened  too  to 
strangle  him,  "let's  promise  that  all 
our  lives  you'll  like  me  better  than 
anybody  else  in  the  world,  and  I  '11  like 
you  better  than  anybody  else  in  the 
world." 

"  Let 's  !  "  she  agreed  ;  and  George 
took  her  brown  little  hand  in  his,  and 
pressed  it  to  his  lips,  in  such  fashion  as 
he  had  read  that  the  gallant  Gordons 
greeted  the  ladies  of  their  clan. 

The  following  day  came  a  letter  with 
an  impressive  yellow  seal,  confirming  the 
fact  of  George's  lordship. 
[63] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Then  followed  a  sale  of  all  the  furni- 
ture and  draperies  which  the  Byrons  had 
used  in  the  Broad  Street  flat;  and  one 
morning  in  July,  the  family  left  Aber- 
deen for  England. 

They  were  not  to  go  to  the  castle  at 
once  to  live,  for  the  Earl  of  Carlisle, 
George's  new  guardian,  had  decreed  that 
he  should  attend  one  of  the  great  Eng- 
lish schools  for  boys,  joining  his  mother 
only  at  vacation  times.  Mrs.  Byron  did 
not  desire  to  spend  the  months  of 
George's  absence  alone  in  the  great  es- 
tablishment, so  she  had  taken  a  house 
near  the  school,  where,  except  for  occa- 
sional visits  to  the  new  domain,  they 
would  reside  while  George's  education 
was  being  further  advanced.  But  now 
they  were  going  for  a  glimpse  of  their 
future  home,  and  after  to-day,  Aberdeen 
would  know  them  no  more. 

May  Gray  accompanied  the  Byrons  to 
England,  sturdily  refusing  to  be  left 
behind. 

Mary  Duff  attended  them  to  the 
[64] 


"THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

coach,  and  the  children's  parting  was  a 
tearful  one  on  both  sides.  But  after 
many  embraces,  and  the  boy's  promise 
to  send  her  a  letter  every  week,  Mary 
allowed  George  to  mount  to  the  seat  be- 
side his  mother  ;  and  as  the  conveyance 
rolled  slowly  away,  she  waved  both 
chubby  hands  in  response  to  George's 
steadily  fluttering  handkerchief,  until 
the  coach,  Blue  Dog,  was  lost  to  view. 

After  a  night  spent  at  the  Notting- 
ham inn,  the  Byrons  hired  a  carriage 
and  drove  out  to  Newstead. 

When  they  came  to  the  Abbey  woods, 
and  the  woman  at  the  toll-bar  held  out 
her  hand  to  receive  their  coins,  Mrs. 
Byron,  playfully  feigning  to  be  a 
stranger  in  order  to  hear  what  the  toll- 
keeper  would  say,  asked  lightly,  — 

"  To  whom  does  this  place  belong  ? " 

"  The  owner,  Lord  Byron,  has  been 
some  weeks  dead." 

"  And  who  is  the  next  heir  ? "  ventured 
Mrs.  Byron. 

Innocently  the  woman  replied,  — 
5  [65] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"  They  say  it  is  a  little  boy  who  lives 
at  Aberdeen." 

"  And  this  is  he,  bless  him !  "  ejacu- 
lated May  Gray,  unable  to  keep  the 
secret ;  and  at  her  words,  the  astonished 
toll- woman  bowed  nearly  to  the  ground, 
hysterically  commanding  the  baby  who 
clung  to  her  skirts  to  salute  his  young 
lord. 

The  Byrons  drove  through  the  Abbey 
woods,  which  proved  to  be  an  arm  of  the 
very  Sherwood  forest  where  long  ago 
had  dwelt  Robin  Hood  and  his  merry 
men.  Past  the  lake,  with  its  fish,  pleas- 
ure boats,  and  the  toy  ships  which  the 
old  lord  had  delighted  to  sail  to  the  end 
of  his  days  ;  through  the  park,  stocked 
with  deer  for  the  chase,  and  up  to  the 
Abbey  they  came. 

The  boy  caught  his  breath  at  sight  of 
the  grand  old  structure  which  had  been 
the  glory  and  retreat  of  hundreds  of 
monks  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  which 
later  King  Henry  the  Eighth  had  pre- 
sented to  a  certain  Lord  Byron,  who 
[66] 


"THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

A 

had  fashioned  one  of  its  wings  into  a 
princely  dwelling.  The  visitors  drove 
around  the  ancient  pile,  feasting  their 
eyes  upon  its  Anglo-Gothic  beauties ; 
then  they  descended  from  the  carriage 
and  entered  the  building.  Guided  by 
one  of  the  servants  in  charge  of  the 
premises,  they  visited  the  dim  clois- 
ters, where  scores  of  hooded  monastics 
had  daily  walked;  the  chapel,  the 
cells,  the  castle  dungeons,  the  vast 
hall  where  the  first  Lord  Byron  had 
entertained  three  hundred  guests  at 
Christmas  dinner ;  the  late  lord's 
drawing-room,  the  art  gallery,  and  the 
mighty  kitchen. 

Everywhere  the  news  had  spread  that 
the  boyish  guest  was  none  other  than  the 
rightful  lord  of  Newstead ;  and  wher- 
ever George  Byron  appeared,  men  un- 
covered deferentially,  and  women  and 
children  offered  sweeping  curtsies.  Mrs. 
Byron  smiled  at  these  with  proud  ac- 
knowledgment, and  May  Gray  chuckled 
without  ceasing  throughout  the  progress, 
[67] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

but    George's    face    was    uncommonly 
grave. 

When  his  feet  became  too  weary  to 
allow  of  further  touring,  the  party  sat 
down  before  an  open-air  luncheon,  spread 
for  them  on  a  table  in  the  shade  of  a 
great  elm. 

Mrs.  Byron,  noting  George's  sombre 
silence,  asked  curiously,— 

"  Of  what  are  you  thinking,  my  lord  ? " 

"  Of  Mary,"  he  returned  soberly. 

"  Of  Mary,"  she  exclaimed  in  surprise  ; 
"doesn't  the  sight  of  all  this  grandeur 
atone  for  her  loss  ?  " 

"No,"  he  returned,  "nothing  can  take 
the  place  of  Mary." 

"  Then  I  '11  teU  you  what  we  11  do," 
rejoined  his  mother  quickly ;  "  if  you 
promise  to  study  well  at  school,  and 
bring  in  good  reports,  we  will  come  back 
to  Newstead  at  holiday  time,  and  in- 
vite Mary  to  spend  Christmas  with  us 
here." 

"  Oh,  mother,  do  you  mean  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  mean  it." 
[68] 


"THE  LITTLE  BOY  AT  ABERDEEN" 

"Hurrah,  hurrah,  for  Newstead  and 
Christmas  and  Mary  !  " 

One  day  in  the  city  of  London  there 
was  published  a  strangely  beautiful  poem. 
Upon  the  first  page  was  printed  the 
title,  "  Childe  Harold,"  and  just  beneath 
it  appeared  the  name  of  the  author : 
George  Gordon  Byron. 

When  the  scholars  and  students  and 
fashionable  folk  read  the  little  book,  they 
were  spellbound  by  the  beauty  of  the 
story  and  the  verse.  Immediately  they 
said  to  one  another,  — 

"  We  must  know  him,  this  poet  who 
can  write  such  enchanting  lines ; "  and 
forthwith  they  thronged  to  his  house 
to  learn  what  sort  of  a  person  he  might 
be. 

They  found  a  man,  young,  genial, 
elegant  in  appearance  and  cordial  in 
manner.  A  few  noticed  that  he  limped 
slightly  when  he  walked  ;  others  that  his 
features  were  strikingly  handsome ;  and 
all  agreed  that  any  one  so  thoughtful 
[69] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME   FAMOUS  MEN 

and  talented  should  be  sought  out  and 
welcomed  to  every  one  of  their  homes. 

Thereupon,  invitations  began  to  pour 
in  upon  the  poet,  every  post  bringing 
letters  from  persons  of  rank,  families  of 
quiet  life,  statesmen,  professors,  and 
even  people  from  the  provinces,  urging 
George  Byron  to  visit  them  and  enjoy 
the  hospitality  they  had  to  offer.  The 
citizens  of  London  opened  their  doors 
to  him  with  one  accord,  vying  with  one 
another  for  the  privilege  of  receiving 
him  under  their  roofs. 

The  young  lord  was  astonished  at  the 
warmth  of  their  enthusiasm,  and  to  this 
day  is  remembered  his  saying,  — 

"  I  awoke  one  morning  and  found 
myself  famous." 


[70] 


"TOM   PEAR-TREE'S 
PORTRAIT  " 

[  GAINSBOROUGH  ] 


GAINSBOROUGH  did 
a  very  dreadful  thing.  If  he  had 
not  possessed  such  a  trick  in  the  use  of 
pen  and  pencil,  this  never  would  have 
happened.  But,  you  see,  he  spent  most 
of  his  school  hours  in  drawing  pictures 
on  the  fly-leaves  of  his  books,  which 
pleased  the  other  boys  so  greatly  that 
he  filled  their  books  also  with  sketches 
of  people,  trees,  and  houses  ;  while  they, 
in  return,  worked  out  his  problems  in 
fractions  and  wrote  his  spelling  lessons 
for  him.  His  copy-book  he  was  content 
to  keep  himself,  for  he  chanced  to  be 
the  best  penman  at  the  Sudbury  Gram- 
mar School,  and  his  pages  were  always 
elegantly  inscribed. 

As  the  months  went  by,  and  his  lesson 
papers  were  daily  found  to   be   correct, 
[71] 


BOYS  WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

the  teacher's  reports  of  Master  Gains- 
borough's progress  proved  highly  gratify- 
ing to  the  boy's  parents.  But  while 
Jack  supplied  his  answers  in  arithmetic, 
and  Joe  prompted  him  with  names  and 
dates  at  history  time,  Tommy  Gains- 
borough's ignorance  of  these  subjects 
was  deplorable,  and  his  conduct  towards 
parents  and  teachers  was  deceiving 
indeed. 

As  spring  came  on  he  grew  restless 
under  the  confinement  of  walls  and 
rules,  and  longed  for  the  dewy  fields  and 
fragrant  lanes.  If  only  he  might  spend 
the  days  outside,  he  thought,  instead  of 
sitting  mewed  up  in  this  dreary  school- 
room, what  splendid  woodland  pictures 
he  could  draw.  Twice  he  asked  the 
schoolmaster  to  excuse  him,  but  Mr. 
Burroughs  curtly  refused,  since  it  would 
be  unfair  to  dismiss  one  pupil  to  roam 
the  meadows  and  keep  the  others  at 
their  tasks.  Tommy  next  tried  his 
father,  but  that  gentleman  replied  with 
all  seriousness,— 

[72] 


«  TOM  PEAR-TREKS  PORTRAIT" 

"  My  son,  you  have  worked  so  well 
this  term  that  I  wish  you  to  keep  a 
perfect  record  until  the  end  of  the  year. 
When  vacation  comes  you  will  be  free 
to  spend  every  day  out  of  doors,  but 
your  education  is  too  important  to  be 
slighted  for  pleasure." 

Tommy  was  much  disappointed  at 
this  decision,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
closed  the  door  quite  ungently  as  he 
started  for  school. 

The  day  was  an  enchanting  one,  and 
as  the  boy  trudged  along  the  unpaved 
streets  that  ran  between  rows  of  quaint 
and  ancient  houses,  a  feeling  of  hot 
rebellion  took  possession  of  him. 

"  Father  does  as  he  likes,"  he  muttered, 
"  and  I  think  I  ought  to  do  the  same 
way  once  in  a  while.  What  is  the  sense 
in  listening  to  old  Burroughs  drone  all 
day  about  nouns  and  divisors  ? " 

The  fresh  spring  breeze,  with  its  scents 
of  green  things  growing,  was  so  tantaliz- 
ing that  he  paused  before  the  schoolhouse 
door  and  thoughtfully  wrinkled  his  brow. 
[73] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Presently  his  face  grew  defiant,  and  he 
dashed  into  the  schoolroom  with  the  look 
of  a  man  who  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
do  as  he  pleased. 

Finding  himself  to  be  the  first  arrival, 
he  hurried  to  his  desk.  Deftly  tearing 
from  his  copy-book  a  slip  of  paper  re- 
sembling those  upon  which  Mr.  Gains- 
borough wrote  Tommy's  occasional 
excuses,  the  boy  dipped  his  pen  and 
quickly  wrote  the  words, — 

"  Give  Tom  a  holiday." 

Now  if  he  had  used  his  own  style  of 
penmanship  the  ruse  would  have  been 
readily  understood  by  the  schoolmaster ; 
but  he  boldly  imitated  his  father's  finely 
pointed  lettering  to  a  nicety,  and  at  the 
end  jotted  down  the  initials,  "  «7.  G.," 
with  two  short  lines  drawn  under  them, 
just  as  his  father  would  have  signed  the 
note. 

Carefully  drying  his  pen,  he  closed  his 

desk  and  left  the  building  before  any  one 

else   arrived.       He  *  waited    around    the 

corner   until   almost  time  for  school  to 

[74] 


"TOM  PEAR-TREE'S  PORTRAIT" 

begin,  then  rushed  into  the  schoolroom, 
now  filled  with  noisy  pupils,  marched 
straight  up  to  the  master's  desk,  and 
presented  his  forged  excuse. 

Mr.  Burroughs  read  the  slip  with 
some  surprise. 

"  Of  course,  Tom,"  he  said,  "  if  your 
father  wishes  you  to  have  a  holiday,  I 
shall  not  refuse  permission  ;  but  I  under- 
stood that  he  wished  you  to  remain 
steadily  at  school  until  vacation  time." 

"  May  I  go  ?  "  queried  the  boy  hastily, 
not  caring  to  discuss  the  question. 

Mr.  Burroughs  bowed,  but  laid  the 
slip  of  paper  in  his  desk.  Tommy,  not 
lingering  for  further  debate,  sped  from 
the  room  ;  and  when  he  reached  the 
place  in  the  next  street,  where,  under 
Dame  Curran's  rosebush,  he  had  hidden 
his  sketch-book,  he  threw  his  cap  high 
in  air  from  sheer  joy  of  springtime  and 
freedom. 

Out  from  the  town  he  hurried,  and 
soon  was  tramping  through  the  forest 
that  furnished  the  banks  of  the  winding 
[75] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

river  Stour.  All  day  long  he  revelled 
in  the  glory  of  the  woods,  and  hour  after 
hour  he  worked  with  his  pencil,  striving 
to  put  into  his  book  the  charming  bits  of 
landscape  that  greeted  his  eye  on  every 
side.  One  sketch  comprised  a  bend  in  the 
river,  with  grassy  meads  beyond ;  another, 
an  old  vine-covered  bridge,  now  fallen 
into  disuse  ;  a  third  merely  pictured  a 
broken  tree  lying  across  the  sunlit  path. 

Occasionally  he  experienced  a  sharp 
twinge  somewhere  when  he  remembered 
that  all  this  pleasure  was  stolen.  "  But 
then,"  he  argued,  "  what  difference  does 
it  make  ?  Old  Burroughs  did  n't  know, 
and  father  will  never  find  it  out !  " 

He  stifled  these  pricking  thoughts  as 
fast  as  they  arose,  not  permitting  them 
seriously  to  disturb  his  holiday.  He 
whistled,  he  sang,  he  lay  on  his  back  and 
looked  up  at  the  sky  through  the  chinks 
in  the  tender  foliage.  Sometimes  he 
closed  his  eyes  and  listened,  and  the 
mysterious  woodland  sounds,  mingled 
with  the  purling  of  the  river,  yielded 
[76] 


"TOM  PEAR-TREKS  PORTRAIT"" 

him  boundless  enjoyment.  When,  how- 
ever, the  shadows  of  the  trees  fell  at  a 
certain  angle,  Tommy  closed  his  sketch- 
book with  a  sigh  and  went  swiftly 
homeward. 

"  I  must  get  there  at  the  usual  time," 
he  meditated,  "  else  they  '11  ask  me 
where  I  Ve  been." 

As  he  came  in  sight  of  the  "  Black 
Horse,"  the  public  inn  of  bygone  times, 
where  armored  knights  had  claimed  food 
and  shelter,  but  which  was  now  the  com- 
fortable residence  of  John  Gainsborough, 
Tommy  began  to  whistle  airily. 

Approaching  nearer,  he  discovered 
that  his  father  had  come  with  pipe  and 
chair  to  the  front  stoop,  and  was  sitting 
with  his  face  turned  down  the  street,  as 
though  watching  for  somebody. 

Tommy  began  to  whistle  louder,  and 
as  he  turned  in  at  the  gate,  his  counte- 
nance was  beaming  with  innocence. 

He  bounded  up  the  steps  with  the  in- 
tention of  getting  into  the  house  as 
quickly  as  possible,  but  as  his  hand 
[77] 


BOYS  WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

touched   the    latch    a   stentorian    voice 
said,  — 

"Thomas!" 

The  boy  stopped  short,  his  eyes  round 
with  surprise,  his  lips  still  puckered  for 
the  whistling  that  had  been  so  abruptly 
quelled. 

"  I  called  for  you  at  school  to-day." 

"  Catted  for  me  at  school  to-day," 
echoed  Tommy,  reddening  in  dismay. 

"  I  did.  I  found  that  I  must  drive 
out  to  Squire  Bagley's  place,  and  I  de- 
cided to  take  you  along.  It  seems  that 
you  had  already  given  Mr.  Burroughs  an 
excuse  from  me." 

Tommy's  ringers  began  to  pick  at  his 
jacket,  and  he  racked  his  brains  for  a 
story  that  would  fit  the  occasion. 

«  Well,  iather,  I  thought  - 

"  Silence,  if  you  please !  I  am  terribly 
shocked  to  find  that  my  son  would  de- 
liberately write  and  act  a  lie.  Such  con- 
duct deserves  the  severest  punishment. 
Will  you  take  your  whipping  before  tea 
or  after  ? " 

[78] 


"TOM  PEAR-TREE'S  PORTRAIT" 

"  After,"  said  Tommy  promptly ;  and 
accepting  this  as  a  dismissal  he  vanished 
into  the  house. 

The  evening  meal  was  not  a  joyous 
one  for  the  culprit,  owing  to  his  foretaste 
of  what  was  coming  later.  His  brothers 
and  sisters  evidently  knew  nothing  of 
his  escapade,  and  chattered  among  them- 
selves as  usual ;  but  his  mother's  eyes 
rested  upon  him  from  time  to  time  with 
sorrow  in  their  depths.  Once  a  sob  came 
into  Tommy's  throat,  but  he  fiercely 
choked  it  back,  scorning  to  weep  even 
under  such  harrowing  circumstances. 

As  the  family  rose  from  the  table,  Mr. 
Gainsborough,  pointing  to  the  stairway, 
said  sternly, — 

"  To  your  own  room,  Thomas  ! " 

Very  slowly  the  boy  obeyed,  and  when 
the  upper  door  had  closed  upon  him, 
Mrs.  Gainsborough  laid  a  detaining  hand 
upon  her  husband's  arm. 

"  Wait  for  a  moment,  John,  and  look 
at  the  child's  work." 

Mrs.  Gainsborough,  who  was  herself 
[79] 


HOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

an  accomplished  painter  of  flowers, 
opened  Tommy's  sketch-book,  and  laid 
before  her  husband's  eyes  the  record  of 
the  day's  outlawry. 

A  whispered  consultation  followed, 
then  Mr.  Gainsborough  ascended  the 
stair  with  a  heavy,  portentous  tread. 

Tommy,  sitting  miserably  on  the  side 
of  his  bed,  heard  the  measured  tramp, 
tramp  along  the  corridor ;  and  folding 
his  arms  he  set  his  teeth  grimly  and 
waited  for  the  worst. 

Mr.  Gainsborough  entered  the  room 
and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"  Thomas,"  he  began  in  a  relentless 
tone,  "  you  have  disgraced  yourself  and 
your  family  by  your  behavior  to-day,  but 
I  have  decided  not  to  give  you  a 
whipping." 

Tommy  leaped  from  the  bed  with  an 
exclamation  of  puzzled  relief. 

"  Instead,  my  son,  I  shall  take  away 
all  your  pencils   and  drawing  materials 
for  a  month,  and  shall  see  that  you  do 
not  have  access  to  any  at  school." 
[80] 


"TOM  PEAR-TREE'S  PORTRAIT" 

"  Oh,  father,"  howled  Tommy  despair- 
ingly, "  I  'd  rather  take  the  whipping  — 
even  two  of  'em,  if  you  '11  give  me  back 
my  things  !  Please  whip  me,  father,  as 
you  said  you  would,  and  let  me  have  my 
sketch-book  ! " 

"  At  the  end  of  a  month,  and  not  one 
day  sooner." 

Mr.  Gainsborough  kept  his  word,  and 
throughout  the  following  weeks  Tommy's 
fingers  fairly  tingled  for  the  touch  of  his 
beloved  instruments.  Pencils  and  paper 
were  so  costly  at  that  time  that  it  was 
useless  for  him  to  save  his  pennies  in  the 
hope  of  buying  them  for  himself;  and 
during  the  weary  days  of  waiting.  Tommy 
decided  positively  that  his  pen  should 
never  again  perform  dishonest  tricks, 
plunging  him  into  such  trouble. 

One  midsummer  morning,  weeks  after 
Tommy's  pencils  had  been  restored  to 
him,  Mrs.  Gainsborough  appeared  at  the 
corner  of  the  garden,  where  the  boy  was 
busily  digging  worms  for  fish  bait. 

"  Tommy,"  she  inquired  in  a  vexed 
[81] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

tone,  "  have  you  been  gathering  my 
yellow  pears  ? " 

"No,"  returned  he,  pushing  his  hat 
back  and  looking  up  at  the  distressed 
lady. 

Now  Tommy  was  guilty  of  so  many 
mischievous  doings  that  when  anything 
went  wrong  about  the  place  he  was 
always  suspected  of  being  in  the  plot 
somewhere,  though  sometimes  he  was 
truly  innocent,  as  happened  to  be  the 
case  just  now. 

"  No,"  he  repeated,  "  I  have  n't  touched 
a  single  one  of  the  yellow  pears.  Honor 
bright ! " 

"Then  some  one  else  has,"  declared 
Mrs.  Gainsborough.  "For  three  days, 
since  they  have  been  ripening  so  beauti- 
fully, I  have  tried  to  find  enough  to  fill 
a  fancy  basket  for  the  dean  ;  and  although 
each  evening  I  have  seen  ten  or  twelve 
that  would  be  perfect  in  another  day,  I 
have  gone  the  following  morning  to 
gather  them,  and  have  found  only  hard 
and  green  ones  hanging.  The  other 
[82] 


«  TOM  PEAR-TREKS  PORTRAIT" 

children  know  nothing  about  it,  so  I 
suppose  some  one  has  stolen  the  pears. 
It  is  too  provoking  !  " 

Mrs.  Gainsborough  turned  away,  and 
her  son  went  on  with  his  digging,  giving 
no  further  thought  to  the  missing  fruit. 

The  next  morning  he  awoke  very 
early,  so  early  that  the  great  red  sun 
was  just  peeping  over  the  hill.  He 
turned  drowsily  on  his  pillow  and  was 
preparing  to  launch  into  another  deli- 
cious nap,  when  it  occurred  to  him  that 
sunrise  was  a  capital  time  for  the  draw- 
ing of  shadows. 

Instantly  he  scrambled  out  of  bed,  and 
five  minutes  later  was  on  his  way  through 
the  orchard  with  his  sketch-book  under 
his  arm. 

Dew  lay  thickly  upon  the  grass  and 
leaves,  and  even  the  ruddy  fruit  hanging 
overhead  sparkled  brightly  as  the  first 
rays  of  the  sun  shone  upon  its  clinging 
drops. 

"  Now  for  the  shadows,"  thought 
Tommy,  glancing  about  the  orchard. 
[83] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"  I  think  I  '11  draw  that  clump  of  currant 
bushes,  if  I  can  get  a  good  position." 

He  walked  up  and  down  several  times, 
trying  to  find  a  place  where  his  view 
would  be  unobstructed.  This  was  no 
easy  matter  amid  so  many  trees,  but  at 
length  he  found  that  by  sitting  inside 
the  entrance  of  an  old  rustic  summer- 
house  he  could  command  his  model 
exactly. 

A  few  feet  at  his  left,  and  close  beside 
the  stone  wall  dividing  the  orchard  from 
the  public  road,  grew  his  mother's  pear- 
tree,  laden  with  ripe,  rich  fruit. 

Tommy  had  opened  his  book,  and  with 
half-closed  eyes  and  uplifted  pencil  was 
measuring  the  height  of  the  currant 
bushes,  when,  to  his  surprise,  a  head 
suddenly  appeared  above  the  wall,  at  the 
very  spot  shaded  by  the  pear-tree. 

The  stranger  cast  a  quick,  cautious 
glance  about  the  premises,  showing  that 
his  errand  was  no  friendly  one,  then 
threw  back  his  head  and  gazed  greedily 
at  the  luscious  pears  that  grew  above 
[84] 


"A  head  suddenly  appeared  above  the  wall ' 


"TOM  PEAR-TREE'S  PORTRAIT" 

him.  As  he  stood  thus,  with  the  morn- 
ing light  falling  brightly  across  his  vis- 
age, Tommy  saw  that  his  features  were 
strongly  marked  and  prominent,  his  face 
seamed  by  deep  and  vicious  lines. 

The  boy,  accustomed  to  study  the 
form  and  appearance  of  things,  quickly 
comprehended  the  stranger's  long,  nose, 
low  brow,  pointed  chin,  and  hollow 
cheeks. 

The  man  looked  furtively  about  for 
the  second  time  and  sprang  to  the  top 
of  the  wall.  Quite  unconscious  that  a 
spectator  was  eagerly  watching  from  the 
covered  structure  near  by,  the  intruder 
ascended  boldly  into  the  pear-tree  and 
proceeded  to  fill  his  pockets  and  hat 
with  the  juicy  fruit. 

Never  a  sound  came  from  the  summer- 
house,  but  before  the  rogue  had  com- 
pleted his  stolen  harvest,  Tommy's 
cunning  pencil  had  drawn  the  robber's 
portrait,  with  the  narrowed  eyes,  leering 
lips,  unkempt  hair,  and  rakish  hat, 
exactly  as  they  had  impressed  him  at 
[85] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

the  moment  when  the  vagabond  stood 
gazing  aloft  at  the  fruit  overhead. 
Tommy  finished  the  sketch  with  a  few 
hasty  strokes,  then  closed  his  book  and 
burst  suddenly  from  the  summer-house, 
shouting  "  Wow,  wow  ! "  at  the  top  of 
his  voice. 

Down  leaped  the  man  to  the  earth, 
and  scaling  the  wall  at  a  bound,  he  fled, 
dropping  many  of  the  pears  as  he  ran. 

Tommy's  unearthly  shrieks  had  roused 
the  household,  and  he  hurriedly  explained 
to  his  mother  the  cause  of  her  daily  van- 
ishing pears,  displaying  his  sketch  as 
proof  of  his  argument. 

An  hour  later  Mr.  Gainsborough 
opened  Tommy's  book  before  the  squire, 
pointed  to  the  drawing  upon  the  last 
page,  and  related  the  story  of  the  boy's 
early  morning  experience. 

The  squire  immediately  recognized  the 
picture  as  of  a  ne'er-do-weel  who  had 
been  loitering  about  Sudbury  for  some 
time,  and  who  had  more  than  once  been 
convicted  of  petty  thieving. 
[86] 


"TOJ/  PEAR-TREKS  PORTRAIT" 

"  I  '11  send  for  him,"  declared  the 
magistrate  ;  and  that  very  afternoon  the 
offender  was  brought  in. 

Mr.  Gainsborough  accused  him  of 
invading  his  orchard  and  attempting  to 
carry  away  his  fruit ;  but  the  culprit 
stoutly  denied  all  knowledge  of  the 
episode. 

Quietly  the  squire  opened  Tommy's 
book,  and  held  it  before  the  defendant's 
astonished  gaze. 

He  uttered  a  baffled  whine,  then,  with 
a  laugh  that  was  like  a  snarl,  he  ad- 
mitted his  guilt  of  the  morning,  and  also 
confessed  to  having  robbed  the  pear-tree 
upon  three  previous  occasions. 

"  My  man,"  announced  the  squire 
sternly,  "  I  shall  let  you  go  free  this 
time  upon  your  promise  of  good  be- 
havior, but  if  you  ever  repeat  the  offence 
I  '11  give  you  a  sentence  of  confinement 
on  bread  and  water.  There  is  plenty  of 
honest  employment  to  be  had  in  Sud- 
bury,  and  I  advise  you  to  go  to  work 
and  live  as  a  decent  citizen." 
[87] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

The  man  shambled  out,  and  from  that 
day  forth  was  seen  no  more  about  the 
village. 

Mr.  Gainsborough,  concluding  from 
the  day's  developments  that  he  could 
justly  afford  to  encourage  this  play- work 
of  Tommy's,  which  was  beginning  to 
take  on  a  shade  of  importance,  bought 
a  large  new  sketch-book  and  presented 
it  to  the  boy. 

Tommy  turned  five  somersaults  to 
express  the  warmth  of  his  gratitude ;  but 
before  despatching  the  old  book  to  its 
future  home  on  the  closet  shelf,  he 
opened  it  and,  with  his  bravest  flourishes, 
wrote  beneath  the  sketch  on  the  final 
page,  — 

"  Tom  Pear-tree's  Portrait." 

When  years  had  gone  by  and  Thomas 
Gainsborough  had  arrived  at  manhood, 
he  astonished  all  England  by  his  remark- 
able paintings.  His  pictures  of  woods 
and  lanes,  fields  and  shining  water,  capti- 
vated the  country  folk  by  presenting  so 
[88] 


"  TOM  PEAR-TREE'S  PORTRAIT" 

perfectly  the  scenes  before  their  doors ; 
and  the  city  dwellers  were  awakened  by 
his  colors  to  the  charms  of  the  wide, 
sweet  country  they  had  forgotten. 

These  landscape  studies  set  Thomas 
Gainsborough  high  in  the  world  of  art, 
but  when  at  length  he  turned  his  cun- 
ning brush  to  the  task  of  painting 
portraits,  his  fame  was  heralded  from 
city  to  province.  He  began  by  mak- 
ing likenesses  of  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ters, and  when  these  were  exhibited 
at  the  Royal  Academy,  people  ex- 
claimed at  the  skill  and  dignity  of  the 
work.  Even  King  George  III.,  who 
chanced  to  visit  the  gallery  on  one  of 
these  occasions,  paused  before  Gains- 
borough's canvas,  and  clasped  his  hands 
in  admiration. 

"  Summon  this  painter  to  the  palace," 
commanded  he,  "  and  let  him  paint  his 
sovereign  and  his  queen." 

This  order  from  the  king  made  Gains- 
borough's portraits  the  fashion  at  court, 
and  straightway  ail  the  ladies  of  rank 
[89] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

and  beauty  came  to  him,  entreating  him 
to  paint  their  pictures. 

His  fortune  and  reputation,  by  these 
well-earned  favors,  rose  far  beyond  any- 
thing he  had  expected,  and  if  ever  a  man 
was  truly  happy  in  his  life  and  work, 
that  man  was  Thomas  Gainsborough. 

He  was  so  generous,  so  good-humored, 
so  lovable  in  his  old-time  frankness,  that 
people  who  sought  his  acquaintance 
because  he  was  a  famous  artist  quickly 
forgot  his  amazing  skill  in  the  pleasure 
of  his  ever-boyish  company. 

It  was  supposed  that  he  had  reached 
the  climax  of  his  art  when  he  exhibited 
a  picture  of  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire, 
for  this  set  Great  Britain  agog  with 
praise  and  wonder ;  but  Thomas  Gains- 
borough was  destined  to  climb  yet  one 
step  higher  in  the  ladder  of  public  esteem, 
and  the  work  that  crowned  his  success 
and  brought  the  world  to  his  feet  was  a 
childish  portrait  entitled  "  Blue  Boy." 
This  was  hung  on  the  wall  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  and  when  the  spectators  came 
[90] 


"TOM  PEAR-TREE'S  PORTRAIT" 

surging  through  the  gallery,  chattering 
amiably  of  this  canvas  and  that,  they 
halted  speechless  before  the  boy  with  the 
thoughtful  eyes,  the  fresh  brown  skin, 
and  the  pale-blue  dress.  The  lad  was 
so  young,  so  sweet,  so  lifelike  in  his 
quiet  pose,  that  not  a  word  was  uttered 
by  the  critics  standing  by.  One  by  one 
they  slipped  away,  aware  that  Thomas 
Gainsborough  had  not  attained  the  goal 
of  his  greatness  by  pictures  of  kings, 
queens,  court  beauties,  and  mighty 
soldiers,  but  by  the  youthful,  innocent 
portrait  entitled  simply  "Blue  Boy." 


[91] 


GEORG'S   CHAMPION 

[ HANDEL ] 

»  no,  Hans,  you  are  too  loud,  and 
Frieda  goes  too  fast  1  Just  listen 
to  Otto's  trumpet  and  watch  my  cane, 
all  of  you,  and  then  you  '11  be  right." 

The  tone  w.as  an  emphatic  one,  and 
the  speaker  pounded  sharply  on  the 
floor  with  his  walking  stick. 

He  was  a  small  boy,  whose  flaxen  hair 
hung  straight  and  thick  on  either  side  of 
his  face.  He  was  panting  with  excite- 
ment, his  eyes  were  sparkling,  his  lips 
were  set. 

Before  him,  on  the  floor,  sat  six  boys 
and  girls  in  a  semi-circle,  attending  ear- 
nestly to  his  commands.  One  boy  pos- 
sessed a  toy  horn ;  two  others,  mouth 
organs;  a  fourth,  a  chubby  girl,  had 
dropped  a  tin  fife  in  sheer  fright ;  and 
the  fifth  and  sixth  clung  to  drum  and 
dinner-bell  respectively. 
[92] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

"This  time,"  went  on  the  conductor 
sternly,  "  I  want  you  to  begin  when  I 
bring  my  cane  down.  Now  watch  1 
One,  two,  three,  four,  —  one  f  " 

As  the  big  baton  descended  with  the 
leader's  vehement " one"  a  deafening  up- 
roar burst  from  the  obedient  orchestra. 

"  Keep  on,  keep  on  1  You  're  going 
it  now !  Slower,  Frieda !  One,  two, 
three,  four !  " 

The  director  swung  his  cane  vigor- 
ously, shouting  his  orders  above  the 
strains  of  the  lusty  symphony.  A  few 
measures  were  bravely  rendered,  when 
the  conductor  suddenly  threw  down  his 
stick  with  a  look  of  extreme  exasper- 
ation. 

"  Peter,"  he  said  quietly,  in  the  tone 
of  a  teacher  sorely  tried  but  patient, 
"  please  don't  jingle  the  bell.  Take  the 
clapper  in  your  hand,  and  tap  it  when 
I  say  'one'  and  'three.'  Like  thisl" 
and  seizing  the  bell,  he  illustrated  his 
meaning,  compelling  the  fat  offender  to 
perform  the  feat  to  his  satisfaction  be- 
,[  93  ] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

fore  going  on  with  the  rehearsal.  When 
the  bell-ringer  had  been  sufficiently 
drilled,  the  director  once  again  took  up 
his  baton  and  ordered  a  fresh  beginning. 

They  were  playing  in  good  earnest, 
for  this  imperious  conductor  desired 
something  far  above  the  discordant 
blasts  that  are  usually  obtained  from 
musical  toys.  Weeks  before  he  had  as- 
signed to  each  playmate  a  certain  instru- 
ment, teaching  him  in  private  to  draw 
real  melody  from  it ;  and  to-day  he  had 
assembled  the  six  performers  in  his  bed- 
room, introducing  them  to  the  delight 
of  joining  together  in  a  familiar  musical 
theme. 

To  be  sure,  the  toys  were  shrill  and 
piping,  the  players  often  faulty  and  care- 
less, but  after  an  hour's  persistent  and 
perspiring  labor  on  the  part  of  all  con- 
cerned, the  Duke's  Military  March  rang 
through  the  house  in  creditable  time  and 
tune. 

While  the  music  continued  with  true 
martial  spirit,  the  door  opened  softly, 
[94] 


GEORG'S  CHAMPION 

and  a  plump,  fair  girl  of  sixteen  peeped 
into  the  room.  Perceiving  the  occupa- 
tion of  the  children,  she  smiled  brightly 
and  slipped  away.  A  moment  later 
another  form  appeared  upon  the  thresh- 
old, that  of  an  elderly,  dignified  man. 
His  hair  was  white,  his  eyes  were  pro- 
tected by  huge  gold  spectacles,  his 
shoulders  were  slightly  bent ;  but  a 
close  observer  would  have  readily  de- 
tected a  resemblance  between  the  hand- 
some old  gentleman  and  the  leader  of 
the  orchestra.  One  bore  the  markings 
of  age,  the  other  the  dimples  of  child- 
hood ;  but  they  plainly  displayed  a 
kindred  will,  energy,  and  intelligence, 
although  one  was  seventy  and  the  other 
but  seven. 

Mr.  Handel  was  the  town  surgeon  of 
Halle,  appointed  by  the  Duke  of  Sachse, 
and  the  flaxen-haired  boy  was  the  idol- 
ized child  of  his  declining  years. 

At  first  sight  of  the  juvenile  orchestra 
the  visitor  smiled  as  indulgently  as  had 
the  girl  before  him,  entering  the  cham- 
[95] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

her  unobserved,  and  seating  himself  in  a 
distant  corner  where  he  could  watch  the 
highly  interesting  performance.  But  he 
turned  quickly  grave  when  his  eye  fell 
upon  the  small  director,  who  was  bend- 
ing anxiously  forward,  his  whole  being 
absorbed  in  the  sounds  that  issued  from 
the  toys  at  signal  of  his  cane.  The  flush 
that  burned  the  leader's  cheek,  the  in- 
tensity of  his  glance,  and  the  strained 
alertness  of  his  lithe  young  body,  seemed 
a  forbidding  vision  to  the  old  gentleman, 
for  his  face  clouded  and  he  shook  his 
head  in  increasing  disapproval. 

Presently  the  concert  ended,  the  chil- 
dren scrambled  noisily  to  their  feet,  and 
the  conductor  leaned  upon  his  cane, 
regarding  them  with  the  serene  com- 
posure of  a  man  who  has  wrought  suc- 
cessfully and  is  modestly  proud  of  the 
fact 

"We  must  go  home,  Georg,"  said 
Peter,  exchanging  his  bell  for  his  cap. 

"  I  'm  going  to  run,  'cause  I  'm  so 
dretful  hungry,"  announced  Frieda,  dis- 
[96] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

appearing  in  quest  of  curds  and  seed 
cakes. 

"  You  may  all  go  now,"  consented  the 
director  affably,  "but,"  raising  a  com- 
manding finger,  "we  will  practise  again 
at  seven  o'clock  to-morrow  morning, 
and  whoever  is  one  minute  late  won't 
be  invited  to  my  party  in  the  after- 
noon." 

"  Oh,  Georg,"  wailed  Frieda,  recalled 
from  the  corridor  by  this  edict,  "  must  I 
come  at  seven,  whether  I've  had  any 
breakfast  or  not  ? " 

The  leader  bowed. 

"  Whether  you  have  had  any  breakfast 
or  not,"  he  rejoined  firmly. 

The  children  trooped  down  the  stairs, 
leaving  their  chief  to  gather  up  the  toys 
and  place  them  carefully  upon  the  table. 

He  was  about  to  leave  the  room  when, 
for  the  first  time,  he  discovered  that  he 
was  not  alone. 

"Father!"  he  exclaimed,  bounding 
gladly  to  the  old  man's  side,  and  laying 
one  hand  affectionately  upon  his  shoulder. 
[97] 


SOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"  Did  you  hear  us  play  ?  Did  n't  we  do 
well  ?  If  only  we  had  a  fiddle  we  could 
make  much  better  music.  Oh,  father, 
it  is  such  fun  —  why  —  what 's  the 
matter,  father?  I  sharpened  your  pens 
and  aired  your  dressing-gown." 

The  boy's  hilarious  comments  ceased 
as  he  became  aware  of  his  father's  dark- 
ened expression,  and  he  hastened  to 
allay  the  doubts  that  he  supposed  to  be 
the  cause  of  this  unlooked-for  displeasure. 

"  I  know,  Georg,  that  you  sharpened 
the  pens,  and  I  believe  you  when  you  tell 
me  that  you  aired  the  dressing-gown, 
but  I  shall  give  you  a  new  duty  to-day. 
See  that  you  perform  it  promptly  !  " 

Georg  listened  in  wonder,  for  never 
before  had  his  father  addressed  him  with 
such  hardness  of  manner,  and  instinc- 
tively the  boy  drew  a  pace  backward. 

"  A  new  —  duty  ? "  he  stammered. 

"  I  want  you  to  take  those  musical 
toys  and  throw  them  into  the  pond,  or 
give  them  to  some  one  who  never  comes 
into  this  house." 

[98] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

Georg  was  dumfounded. 

"  Throw  them  away  —  my  trumpet, 
my  fife,  my  — ' 

Breathless  with  consternation  the  boy 
rushed  to  the  table  and  gathered  his 
treasures  protectingly  in  his  arms. 

"  These  —  I  must  —  keep,"  he  asserted 
chokingly,  eying  his  father  from  the 
breastworks  of  drum  and  bell. 

For  answer  Mr.  Handel  pointed  to  the 
door,  and  Georg,  reading  naught  but 
doom  in  that  significant  gesture,  dropped 
his  toys  with  a  crash  and  clasped  his 
father's  arm  beseechingly. 

"  Father,  don't  make  me  throw  them 
in  the  pond !  Tell  me  why  it  is  wrong 
for  me  to  have  them ;  please,  father, 
tell  me ! " 

The  old  gentleman's  face  expressed 
both  resolution  and  kindness. 

"  Listen,  Georg.  When  I  gave  you 
those  toys  at  Christmas  time,  I  expected 
you  to  amuse  yourself  with  them  as 
other  children  do,  in  turn  with  balls, 
kites,  and  sleds.  But  this  you  have 
[99] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

failed  to  do,  and  every  play-hour  since 
that  time  you  have  given  to  these  musi- 
cal toys.  Now,  Georg,  I  mean  to  give 
you  a  thorough  education,  so  that  when 
you  are  a  man  you  may  become  a  jurist, 
capable  of  following  a  respectable  career 
and  earning  a  snug  fortune.  Ever  since 
you  were  born  I  have  planned  and 
saved  for  this  purpose,  and  I  cannot 
have  my  arrangements  upset  by  these 
silly  mouth  organs.  Tut,  tut!"  as  the 
boy  endeavored  to  speak,  "no  words, 
my  son,  over  this  matter  !  If  I  allow 
you  to  keep  these  things  and  play 
with  them,  day  in  and  day  out,  as  you 
have  been  doing,  you  will  grow  into 
a  musician,  and  then  where  will  my  jur- 
ist be  ?  No,  no,  it  is  not  to  be  thought 
of.  When  I  came  in  to-day,  you  were 
so  deep  in  the  Duke's  March  that  you 
did  not  know  that  I  was  near.  No, 
boy,  you  cannot  have  them  any  longer. 
I  would  have  taken  them  away  before, 
had  I  realized  that  you  were  so  set  upon 
them." 

[100] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

"Please,  father—  "  whispered  Georg, 
quaking,  but  persistent. 

"  You  must  either  throw  them  away  or 
give  them  away  to-day.  You  shall  have 
an  hour  to  decide  which  you  wish  to  do, 
and  at  the  end  of  it,  I  shall  expect  the 
matter  to  be  settled  for  all  time.  Also, 
Georg,  I  wish  you  to  see  no  more  of  four 
of  those  children  who  were  here  to-day. 
Frieda  and  Peter  seemed  dull  enough, 
but  the  others  were  too  musical  by  far 
to  be  fit  companions  for  you.  You  may 
tell  them  that  I  forbid  them  the  house 
from  to-day." 

At  this  stroke  of  fate,  Georg  threw 
himself  at  full  length  on  the  floor,  sob- 
bing tempestuously.  His  father  departed 
without  further  parley,  and  the  boy  was 
left  alone  to  battle  with  his  disappoint- 
ment. 

As  the  hour  drew  to  a  close,  he 
mastered  his  emotion  as  well  as  he  was 
able,  washed  from  his  face  the  traces  of 
weeping,  and  hurried  out  to  call  a  meet- 
ing of  his  orchestra  by  the  pond-side. 
[101] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

He  would  not  confess  to  his  mates 
that  he  was  grieved  with  the  message  he 
had  for  them,  but  delivered  it  with  an 
air  of  mannish  bravado. 

"  I  shan't  have  an  orchestra  any  more, 
and  I  have  brought  you  all  of  my  in- 
struments. I  '11  give  you  each  the  one 
you  Ve  been  using,  so  you  can  play 
hereafter.  You  needn't  come  to-mor- 
row to  rehearse,  for  I  can't  lead  any 
longer." 

"  No  orchestra !  You  won't  lead ! " 
chorused  the  musicians  blankly,  as  they 
received  the  cherished  toys  into  their 
hands. 

"  Never  again,"  affirmed  Georg  loftily, 
but  he  must  needs  set  his  teeth  hard  upon 
his  lower  lip,  lest  its  trembling  should 
betray  his  stinging  regret. 

"  You  see,"  he  explained  with  the  easy 
patronage  of  a  captain  who  has  led  his 
troops  to  victory,  but  who  is  about  to  be 
promoted  out  of  their  midst,  "  it  is  not 
as  though  I  were  to  be  a  musician  when 
I  grow  up.  It  is  all  well  enough  for  you 
[102] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

fellows  to  play  on  these  things  every 
day,  but  I  really  ought  not  to  waste 
my  time  with  them,  for,"  importantly, 
"  when  I  am  a  man,  I  am  going  to  be 
a  jurist." 

"  A  what  ?  "  demanded  his  hearers  in 
one  breath,  much  impressed  by  the  high- 
sounding  title. 

"A  jurist,"  Georg  repeated,  folding 
his  arms,  much  gratified  at  the  effect  his 
announcement  had  produced. 

"  What  does  a  —  a  jurist  do  ? "  in- 
quired Frieda,  feminine  curiosity  con- 
quering her  awe. 

"  Oh,"  replied  Georg  easily,  "  a  jurist, 
Frieda,  writes  down  in  a  book  every- 
thing that  people  ought  to  do,  and 
when  they  don't  do  just  as  he  has 
written,  he  cuts  off  their  heads." 

"  Ach ! " 

"  Their  heads  ? " 

"  You  will  learn  to  cut  them  off  ? " 

Georg  bowed. 

"  Now  you  understand  why  I  must 
give  up  the  orchestra.  If  you  decide  to 
[103] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

keep  on  without  me,  perhaps,  some- 
time — ' 

He  was  turning  away  with  a  kingly 
wave  of  the  hand,  his  last  sentence  un- 
finished, when  a  question  from  Peter 
recalled  him  to  the  second  and  most 
distressing  part  of  his  mission. 

"  You  '11  have  your  party  to-morrow 
afternoon  ?  We  need  n't  play  on  things, 
you  know." 

The  blood  mounted  to  Georg's  fore- 
head, and  his  fingers  twitched  uncom- 
fortably ;  but  he  managed  to  speak  so 
boldly  that  his  listeners  were  quite  una- 
ware of  his  struggle. 

"  I  am  glad  you  mentioned  the  party, 
Peter,  for  I  had  nearly  forgotten  it.  No, 
I  won't  have  any  party,  and  I  must  tell 
you  —  at  least,  father  says  —  that  —  that 
Hans  and  Otto  and  Gretchen  and  Leo- 
pold must  not  come  to  my  house  any 
more.  Of  course,"  he  added  hastily, 
seeking  to  drown  the  gasps  of  his  troop- 
ers, "it  is  n't  that  you  're  not  good 
enough  and  nice  enough  for  me  to  play 
[104] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

with,  but  father  says  that  you  four  are 
very  musical,  and  you  might  make  me 
musical  too ;  but  Frieda  and  Peter  can 
come,  for  they  are  dull." 

"  I  hate  your  old  tunes  and  notes,  any- 
way," protested  Peter,  much  injured ; 
but  Frieda  cut  him  short  with  the  ex- 
cited proposal, — 

"  Let 's  have  your  party  for  Peter  and 
me  and  you,  to-morrow  1" 

"  Have  your  party  1  Have  your 
party  ! "  sneered  Otto  ;  and  Hans  in- 
formed Georg  in  biting  tones  that  he 
wouldn't  forget  this  when  his  birthday 
came  next  month. 

Here  Georg  visibly  weakened,  for 
he  remembered  that  Hans  was  expect- 
ing either  a  violin  or  a  flute  upon 
that  occasion,  and  he  nearly  lost  his 
studied  indifference  with  the  recollec- 
tion. He  was  obliged  to  face  about,  to 
hide  the  sudden  teardrops  that  glistened 
on  his  cheeks ;  and,  marching  proudly 
toward  his  father's  pasture,  with  head 
high  in  ah-,  and  back  steadily  kept 
[105] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

toward  his  forsaken  band,  he  called 
out, — 

"  I  'm  not  mad  at  you,  but  you  can  be 
mad  at  me  if  you  like.  I  won't  have  a 
party  to-morrow  for  Frieda  and  Peter, 
'cause  I  like  Hans  and  Otto  better  than 
I  do  them,  'cause  they  know  how  to 
keep  time  when  I  beat." 

He  had  reached  the  pasture  with  the 
last  word  of  parting,  and  flinging  himself 
over  the  bars,  he  fled  across  the  green 
as  though  twenty  scouts  of  the  enemy 
were  close  upon  his  heels.  The  mask 
that  he  had  worn  to  conceal  his  heart- 
burning had  fallen,  and  he  was  crying 
bitterly  as  he  ran. 

Old  Kappelstahr,  Georg's  special  pet 
since  the  days  when  she  was  a  sportive 
calf,  stood  mildly  chewing  her  cud  near 
the  inner  fence.  As  her  master  dashed 
among  the  kine  in  evident  agitation,  the 
heifer  turned  to  look  after  him,  appar- 
ently surprised  that  he  had  passed  her 
by  without  a  word  of  greeting. 

Georg,  glancing  backward,  happened 
[106] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

to  catch  that  look  of  gentle  interest. 
He  halted  irresolutely,  then,  rushing  to 
her  side  and  throwing  his  arms  about  her 
neck,  the  dejected  jurist  sobbed  out  his 
woe  upon  her  warm  brown  shoulder. 

During  the  succeeding  days  and  weeks, 
Georg  felt  as  lonely  as  a  shipwrecked 
mariner  cast  upon  a  deserted  island  of 
the  sea.  Instinctively,  when  lessons 
were  done,  he  reached  out  for  amuse- 
ment to  the  musical  toys  that  were  his 
no  longer.  Sometimes  he  heard  sounds 
arising  from  the  pond-side,  where  his  for- 
bidden orchestra  rehearsed  under  Otto's 
direction.  That  he  might  neither  make 
music  nor  mingle  with  those  who  did, 
filled  him  with  blank  dismay  ;  and  hour 
by  hour  he  wandered  about  the  house 
and  garden,  unable  to  attach  himself  to 
other  interests  or  games.  His  father 
required  him  to  make  an  industrious  use 
of  his  school  hours,  even  adding  to  the 
regular  course  certain  studies  that  he 
deemed  useful  to  one  preparing  for  a 
serious  profession. 

[107] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

The  old  gentleman  was  sorry  indeed 
when  he  saw  how  the  absence  of  the 
musical  toys  and  companions  affected 
Georg,  and  he  even  sought  to  modify 
the  discipline  by  presenting  to  the  boy 
a  complete  set  of  carpenter's  tools. 

Georg  thanked  him  for  the  gift,  but 
what  was  the  old  gentleman's  surprise, 
a  week  later,  upon  seeing  the  chest  in 
his  son's  room,  still  unopened,  with  every 
tool  in  place,  and  across  the  wooden  lid 
a  series  of  black  and  white  keys  painted, 
in  imitation  of  a  harpsichord. 

Mr.  Handel  frowned,  but  made  no 
reference  to  the  matter  before  Georg. 

Mrs.  Handel  believed  that  her  husband 
was  right  at  all  times,  and  would  not 
have  reversed  his  decision  regarding  the 
musical  affair,  if  she  could  ;  but  her  sister 
Anna,  the  plump  fair  girl  who  had  peeped 
in  upon  the  last  rehearsal  of  the  orches- 
tra in  Georg's  room,  sympathized  warmly 
with  the  boy,  and  sought  to  console  him 
in  every  way  possible. 

Anna  was  barely  sixteen,  herself 
[108] 


GEORGE  CHAMPION 

scarcely  more  than  a  child,  blue-eyed, 
yellow-haired,  and  a  member  of  the 
Handel  household.  Her  sweet  temper 
and  merry  heart  had  long  before  won 
Georg's  devotion,  and  in  his  present  trial 
no  one  was  admitted  to  his  confidence 
but  this  youthful  aunt. 

Never  a  word  of  disrespect  or  rebellion 
did  Anna  utter  against  Mr.  Handel,  for 
she  believed  implicitly  in  a  child's  obedi- 
ence to  his  parents ;  but,  being  of  a 
musical  temperament  herself,  she  entered 
into  the  boy's  trouble  as  though  she,  too, 
were  under  the  ban.  In  a  certain  sense 
she  was,  there  being  no  musical  instru- 
ment in  the  house,  and  often  she  felt 
stirred  by  the  same  impulse  that  wrought 
so  constantly  upon  her  nephew. 

"  Never  mind,  Georg,"  she  would  say, 
"let  Hans  and  Frieda  have  the  mouth 
organ  and  the  drum.  Just  you  attend 
to  your  school,  and  when  your  father  sees 
that  you  mean  to  study  hard  and  carry 
out  his  wishes,  he  will  give  them  back  to 
you." 

[109] 


BO YS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

But  weeks  dragged  wearily  by,  and, 
despite  Georg's  diligence  at  school,  Mr. 
Handel  did  not  relent.  Frieda  and  Peter 
came  occasionally,  but  they  had  never 
been  Georg's  chosen  comrades,  and  he 
joined  their  games  mechanically,  plainly 
relieved  when  they  took  their  departure. 
He  longed  unceasingly  for  Otto,  who  was 
clever  with  the  trumpet,  and  for  Hans, 
who  was  now  the  possessor  of  a  violin. 

He  became  restless  and  dissatisfied, 
and  his  mother  despaired  of  a  child  who 
went  about  with  such  a  sober  face. 

He  never  gave  voice  to  the  discontent 
that  surged  in  his  breast,  for  parental 
authority  was  strict  in  the  Handel  house- 
hold, and  he  would  have  been  sharply 
punished  for  outspoken  protest.  But  he 
did  not  recover  from  his  disappointment, 
as  his  father  had  so  reasonably  expected  ; 
a  slight  paleness  crept  over  his  plump 
cheeks,  his  lively  spirit  was  tinged  with 
melancholy,  and  from  his  compressed 
lips  was  seldom  heard  his  former  ring- 
ing laugh. 

[110] 


GEORG' S  CHAMPION 

Every  one  in  the  house  noticed  the 
change,  but  all  except  Anna  thought  the 
mood  would  presently  pass  away  if 
properly  ignored,  and  no  mention  was 
made  in  his  hearing  of  the  subject  that 
lay  nearest  his  heart.  The  girl,  however, 
realized  that  Georg  was  seriously  un- 
happy, and  right  heartily  did  she  try  to 
divert  him  from  his  consuming  desire. 

One  November  afternoon,  as  Georg 
sat  studying  before  the  sitting-room  fire 
with  his  mother,  who  had  fallen  asleep 
over  her  knitting,  his  attention  was  at- 
tracted by  a  pebble  being  thrown  against 
the  window.  Raising  his  eyes,  he  beheld 
his  aunt  beckoning  to  him  from  the 
garden.  Down  went  the  book  and  out 
went  the  boy. 

"  What  is  it,  Aunt  Anna  ?  " 

For  answer,  the  girl  caught  him  about 
the  neck  and  whirled  him  madly  up  and 
down  the  gravelled  path. 

"  It 's  a  secret,  Georg,  the  best  and 
biggest  secret  in  the  whole  world.  No- 
body is  to  know  it  but  you  and  me,  and 
[111] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

it  is  so  lovely  that  I  can't  keep  from 
spinning  like  a  top  1 " 

"  Wait !  Stop  !  Let  loose  ! "  and  the 
boy  broke  from  her  clasp,  half-strangled 
by  the  joyful  energy  of  her  arm. 
"What  is  the  secret?  Hurry  and 
tell!" 

The  girl  stood  smiling  and  speechless, 
unable  to  find  words  to  frame  her  tid- 
ings. Then  glancing  about  to  assure 
herself  that  no  one  was  near,  she  bent 
quickly  and  whispered,  — 

"You  remember,  Georg,  that  poor 
Granny  Wegler  died  last  week.  Well, 
her  daughter,  Mrs.  Friesland,  who  came 
from  Munich  to  take  care  of  her,  called 
here  to-day  to  tell  me  —  what  do  you 
suppose  ? " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  She  said  that  she  had  found  a  note 
written  by  Granny,  saying  that  when 
she  died,  she  wanted  to  leave  her  clavi- 
chord to  me.  Just  think  of  it,  Georg,  I 
am  to  have  that  dear,  beautiful  little 
clavichord  that  stood  in  Granny's  parlor, 
[112] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

and  you  and  I  can  play  on  it  whenever 
we  please  ! " 

Georg's  face  went  from  red  to  white 
and  back  to  red  again  with  this  stupen- 
dous news.  Afraid  that  a  shout  would 
serve  to  recall  him  to  house  and  book, 
he  sought  to  express  his  delight  by  roll- 
ing over  and  over  in  the  crackling 
brown  grass  and  pulling  up  the  dead 
blades  by  handfuls. 

Suddenly,  however,  he  ceased  his 
tumbling  about,  and  sat  up,  his  hair 
filled  with  bits  of  leaves  and  grass. 

"  Ought  I  to  play  on  it,  Aunt  Anna  ? 
Will  father  care  ?  " 

Georg's  voice  shook  with  apprehen- 
sion, but  the  girl  hastened  to  reassure 
him. 

"  When  your  father  made  you  give 
away  the  toys,  he  never  said  a  word 
about  clavichords.  It  can't  be  wrong  to 
play  on  it  when  you  never  have  been 
forbidden." 

Anna's  idea  of  obedience  was  very 
strict,  and  in  the  present  case  she  was 
8  [113] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

wholly  sincere,  never  doubting  for  an  in- 
stant that  they  were  about  to  proceed 
in  the  straight  path  of  duty. 

"  Oh,  no,"  murmured  the  boy,  much 
relieved,  "  he  did  n't  mention  clavi- 
chords, I  'm  sure." 

"  Now  this  is  to  be  a  secret  of  yours 
and  mine,  and  while  the  others  are  gone 
to  the  Kirmess  to-morrow,  I  shall  have 
the  darling  brought  over  and  carried  up 
to  the  garret." 

"  Ho,  ho !  Hurrah  for  our  secret ! 
Hurrah  !  hurrah  ! " 

When,  next  day,  Georg  saw  the  clavi- 
chord borne  to  the  shadowy  chamber 
under  the  eaves  and  set  up  in  all  its 
thrilling  reality  against  the  warm  brick 
chimney,  he  pressed  both  hands  over  his 
mouth  in  the  fear  that  his  cries  of  exul- 
tation might  reach  his  father's  ears  in 
town. 

When  the  carriers  were  gone,  he  ap- 
proached the  instrument  timidly,  and 
only  after  Anna  had  played  several 
tunes,  could  he  be  induced  to  touch  its 
[114] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

yellowed  keys.  But  when  he  had  once 
overcome  the  awe  that  filled  him  at 
sight  of  his  heart's  desire,  he  clung  to  it 
as  a  thing  of  life,  passing  every  hour 
thereafter  that  he  could  snatch  from  his 
school  studies,  in  the  company  of  this 
glorious  toy.  In  the  beginning,  Anna 
taught  him  the  few  rudiments  of  musical 
art  that  lay  within  her  ken,  but  before 
many  weeks  had  passed,  the  pupil  turned 
teacher,  so  far  outstripping  his  aunt  that 
he  was  able  to  give  her  many  helpful 
suggestions. 

That  Georg  speedily  recovered  his 
vaulting  spirits,  every  one  remarked ; 
but  none  guessed  the  reason.  The  good 
surgeon  supposed  that  the  boy's  regret 
for  his  lost  playthings  and  companions 
was  forgotten,  and  he  smiled  to  see  his 
son  as  noisy  and  mischief-loving  as  be- 
fore the  September  episode. 

The  conspirators  were  for  a  time  in 

terror  of  discovery,  but  the  tones  of  the 

clavichord  were  so  thin  and  muffled  that 

their  tinkling  would    never   disturb    a 

[115] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

drowsy  garret  mouse,  much  less  pene- 
trate the  oaken  floors  to  the  chambers 
under  foot.  No  one  but  Georg's  mother 
ever  visited  the  attic  region,  and  during 
this  important  season,  she  chanced  to  be 
afflicted  with  acute  rheumatic  pain  that 
prevented  her  climbing  the  steep  stair 
leading  to  the  treasure-house. 

The  winter  was  a  long  one  and  cold, 
but  Anna  and  Georg,  in  their  high 
retreat,  were  as  happy  and  comfort- 
able as  meadow-larks.  Trunks,  chests, 
old  clothing,  and  discarded  furniture 
abounded  there ;  bunches  of  dried  herbs 
were  strung  to  the  cross-beams,  and 
cobwebs  draped  the  outlying  nooks ; 
but  the  great  chimney  emitted  a  cosy 
warmth,  and  the  clavichord  provided  un- 
ceasing entertainment. 

As  time  went  by,  Anna's  interest 
waned  considerably,  owing  to  the  suc- 
ceeding preparations  of  Christmas  gifts, 
March  birthday  festivities,  and  spring 
finery;  but  when  months  had  rolled 
away  and  summer  suns  were  once  more 
[116] 


"The  clavichord  provided  unceasing  entertainment." 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

ripening  the  fruit  and  coloring  the  flow- 
ers, Georg  was  as  intently  absorbed  in 
the  clavichord  as  on  the  day  of  its  first 
appearance. 

One  June  morning  he  was  starting  for 
a  day's  visit  with  some  cousins  who 
lived  on  the  most  fashionable  street  in 
Halle.  He  was  attired  for  the  occasion 
in  his  best  suit  of  shining  black  satin. 
A  deep  collar  of  Mechlin  lace,  a  pair  of 
gleaming  silver  shoe-buckles,  and  a  sil- 
ver cord  wound  around  his  broad  black 
beaver  filled  him  with  satisfaction  as  he 
emerged  from  the  house  door. 

At  this  juncture  Mr.  Handel  drove 
into  the  gravelled  plaza  lying  between 
stable  and  street,  and  Georg  observed 
with  surprise  that  the  carriage  was  fes- 
tooned with  yellow  streamers,  that 
Mummer,  the  staid  mare,  was  groomed 
until  she  shone,  and  tricked  out  in  the 
yellow  harness  and  tassels  reserved  for 
state  occasions. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  father  ? " 
called  Georg. 

[117] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"  To  Weisenfels.  The  duke  sent  for 
me  this  morning.  He  wishes  a  report 
of  the  state  of  health  in  Halle." 

"  Oh,  father,  please  take  me  with  you  ! 
I  Ve  never  seen  the  court,  and  I  want  to 
go  so  much  ! " 

"  Not  this  time,  Georg.  I  have  busi- 
ness to  attend  to,  and  I  cannot  look  after 
you." 

"  You  need  n't  look  after  me,"  insisted 
the  lad,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  door 
of  the  slowly  moving  vehicle.  "  I  '11  be 
good  and  do  everything  you  say,  and 
Christian  will  take  care  of  me.  Please, 
father,  take  me  1 " 

"  No,  no  !  Some  other  time  1 11  take 
you,  but  this  time  I  shall  be  too  busy. 
Get  up,  Mummer  ! " 

With  the  touch  of  the  whip,  the 
ancient  mare  broke  into  a  gentle  dog- 
trot, the  only  gait  more  swift  than  a 
walk  in  which  she  ever  indulged. 

Georg  saw  the  carriage  roll  through 
the  gates  and  take  the  road  toward 
Weisenfels. 

[118] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

To  go  to  the  duke's  court  was  some- 
thing that  he  had  long  desired,  and  this 
seemed  a  wholly  favorable  time  for  the 
undertaking.  Had  his  father's  denial 
been  decisive,  Georg  would  have  ac- 
cepted it  with  the  best  grace  he  could 
muster,  and  gone  on  about  his  visit ;  but 
he  had  seen  that  the  surgeon  was  merely 
preoccupied,  refusing  the  petition  ab- 
sently in  order  that  his  reflections  should 
not  be  disturbed,  rather  than  that  he 
cared  to  forbid  the  journey. 

"  If  he  only  knew  how  much  I  wanted 
to  go,  he  would  have  said  '  yes,' "  thought 
Georg.  "  Father  nearly  always  lets  me 
do  things  when  I  ask  him.  He  really 
did  n't  hear  what  I  said,  —  did  n't  hear 
inside  him,  I  mean,  —  or  he  would  have 
taken  me.  I  '11  go  !  I  '11  go  anyway,  and 
when  I  get  there  father  will  be  sure  to 
let  me  stay." 

Fired  with  this  determination,  Georg 
set  off,  running  nimbly  behind  the  car- 
riage, taking  pains  all  the  while  to  keep 
out  of  the  surgeon's  sight. 
[119J 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Although  Mummer  was  not  very  fleet 
as  horses  go,  she  jogged  steadily  along, 
and  the  boy,  following  close  behind  the 
carriage,  began  to  wonder  why  she  never 
stopped  to  catch  her  breath  and  cool  her- 
self. Up  and  down  hill,  over  bridges, 
through  strips  of  forest,  went  horse, 
carriage,  and  boy ;  and,  as  the  sun 
blazed  down,  and  the  road  grew  dusty 
to  choking,  the  last  one  of  the  proces- 
sion became  so  hot  and  breathless  that 
he  feared  he  must  stop  or  die. 

At  twelve  o'clock  the  carriage  drew 
up  before  a  roadside  inn ;  and  when  the 
hostler  came  to  take  charge  of  Mum- 
mer, Mr.  Handel  opened  the  door  and 
stepped  out  upon  the  flower-bordered 
driveway. 

The  flash  of  a  silver  hat-cord  seemed 
to  twinkle  before  his  eyes,  and  seized 
with  a  sharp  suspicion,  the  old  gentle- 
man strode  quickly  round  to  the  back 
of  the  carriage  only  to  see  a  pair  of 
small  black  legs  disappearing  under  the 
vehicle. 

[120] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

"  Georg ! "  he  ejaculated.  "  Come  out, 
instantly  1  What  are  you  doing  here  ? " 

A  dusty,  sheepish  boy  crawled  slowly 
into  sight,  murmuring  confusedly  as  he 
rose,  — 

"  I  knew  you  'd  let  me  go  if  you 
thought  about  it,  so  I  came  — " 

Dizzy  from  heat  and  fatigue,  Georg 
clutched  the  wheel  to  keep  himself  from 
falling  ;  and  the  surgeon  took  him  anx- 
iously by  the  shoulder. 

"  You  foolish  boy  !  What  possessed 
you  to  undertake  such  a  tramp  1  I 
didn't  care  particularly  if  you  came. 
Here,  let's  go  into  the  inn  and  get 
dinner  !  You  will  feel  better  when  you 
have  had  warm  food  and  time  to  rest. 
I  '11  send  a  messenger  back  to  your 
mother,  so  she  will  know  that  you  have 
come  with  me.  You  foolish  child  !  " 

The  evening  was  spent  in  the  ducal 
palace,  whither  the  surgeon  had  been 
summoned  with  his  professional  report ; 
and  the  novel  sights  and  sounds  proved 
so  exciting  to  Georg  that  long  after  he 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

was  tucked  into  his  cot  he  lay  wide 
awake,  thinking  of  all  that  he  had  en- 
joyed. When  sleep  did  finally  overtake 
him,  he  dreamed  of  the  gayly  uniformed 
guards  stationed  inside  and  outside  the 
palace,  of  the  massive  corridors,  rich 
with  works  of  art,  and  the  vast  assembly 
room  where  the  duke  had  held  an  audi- 
ence, while  he  himself  had  looked  down 
from  an  upper  gallery  upon  the  throngs 
of  men  and  women,  the  flowers,  the 
banners,  and  listened  to  the  music  wafted 
from  the  musicians'  balcony  opposite. 

Christian  Handel,  a  nephew  of  Georg's, 
although  more  than  twice  the  boy's  age, 
was  a  member  of  the  duke's  train,  and 
he  had  piloted  the  small  visitor  about  the 
place,  pointing  out  to  him  the  things  that 
would  prove  of  especial  interest.  He 
had  likewise  introduced  his  young  rela- 
tive to  the  musicians,  and  they,  attracted 
by  the  boy's  straightforward  manner  and 
intelligent  replies,  cordially  received  him 
among  them. 

Morning  came  before  Georg  realized 
[122] 


GEORG' S  CHAMPION 

that  he  had  been  asleep,  and  with  it, 
Christian,  who  shook  him  awake. 

"  Dress  yourself  quickly,  Georg,  for 
the  duke  goes  to  church  this  morning, 
and  when  he  attends,  nobody  else  in  the 
house  is  permitted  to  stay  away." 

Christian  conducted  Georg  to  the  or- 
gan-loft, that  he  might  better  see  the 
sumptuous  chapel  and  the  duke  with  his 
richly  apparelled  retinue  passing  in  for 
service. 

The  white-haired  organist,  whom 
Georg  had  met  the  night  before,  greeted 
him  pleasantly;  and  Christian  left  him 
in  care  of  the  aged  musician,  while  he 
hurried  down  to  take  his  place  among  the 
crimson-clad  retainers. 

When,  an  hour  later,  the  duke  sat  in 
his  apartment  at  breakfast,  the  sound  of 
the  organ  fell  upon  his  ear.  Himself  a 
passionate  lover  of  music,  he  could 
readily  distinguish  the  touch  of  the 
various  players  at  court ;  but  this  soft 
and  unfamiliar  strain  caused  him  to  bend 
forward  with  a  puzzled  look.  Gradually 
[123] 


BOYS    WHO   BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

the  music  grew  more  distinct,  and  soon 
the  palace  resounded  with  a  strong  and 
stately  melody. 

"  Who  is  at  the  organ  ?  "  the  duke  de- 
manded suddenly,  glancing  inquiringly 
at  one  of  his  attendants. 

"  It  is  the  little  Handel  from  Halle, 
your  grace,"  replied  Christian. 

"  A  relative  of  yours  ?  " 

The  young  man  blushed,  for  he  was 
unwilling  to  confess  to  an  eight-year-old 
uncle  ;  but  he  told  the  truth  and  satisfied 
his  pride  by  explaining  distinctly,  — 

"He  is  my  grandfather's  youngest 
son." 

"  Bring  him  hither,  and  his  father  also." 

Christian  disappeared,  and  presently 
Mr.  Handel  entered  by  one  door,  just 
before  his  son  and  grandson  appeared  on 
the  threshold  of  the  other. 

The  duke  motioned  the  old  gentleman 
to  a  distant  corner,  and  beckoned  the  boy 
to  approach. 

Georg,  bereft  of  Christian's  support, 
and  unaware  of  his  father's  presence,  be- 
[124] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

came  so  frightened  that  his  breath  almost 
failed  as  he  advanced,  and  he  wondered 
wildly  if  the  trembling  of  his  knees  could 
be  detected  by  the  company.  He  carried 
his  black  beaver  on  his  arm,  as  he  had 
seen  the  courtiers  do,  and  when  he  came 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  ducal  chair,  he 
bowed  with  a  curious  little  bob  that  set 
the  whole  room  laughing. 

"  Silence  ! "  commanded  the  duke 
sternly  ;  then  turning,  he  kindly  asked 
his  small  auditor  what  his  name  might 
be. 

"  Georg  Friedrich  Handel,"  replied  the 
boy  tremulously,  but  with  the  sound  of 
his  own  voice  his  terror  dissolved,  and 
he  stood  before  the  Duke  of  Sachse  with 
respectful  composure. 

"  When  did  you  learn  to  play  the 
organ,  my  manikin  ?  " 

"  This  morning,  your  grace." 

"  This  morning  ! "  echoed  the  duke, 
astounded.  "  Can  it  be  true  that  you 
have  never  tried  the  instrument  before 
to-day  ? " 

[125] 


BOYS    WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"  Well,  you  see,  we  have  no  organ  at 
home,"  returned  Georg  apologetically. 

The  duke  studied  him  for  a  moment, 
as  though  seeking  for  traces  of  falsehood, 
but  Georg's  utter  simplicity  was  strangely 
convincing. 

Quietly  the  duke  put  his  next  question. 

"Upon  what  instruments  have  you 
played  before  ? " 

"  Last  winter  and  this  summer  I  have 
played  every  day  on  my  aunt's  clavi- 
chord, your  grace." 

Here  a  loud  gasp  was  heard  from  a 
distant  corner,  but  the  duke  frowned  for 
silence. 

"  And  what  before  the  clavichord,  my 
boy  ? " 

"  A  mouth  organ,  a  tin  trumpet,  a  fife, 
a  drum,  and  a  dinner-bell,  your  grace." 

A  dozen  irrepressible  titters  burst  from 
the  attendants,  but  the  duke  grew  very 
grave. 

"  And  that  is  all,  lad  ?  " 

"All,  your  grace." 

"  No  lessons  ? " 

[126] 


GEORG" S  CHAMPION 

"  No  —  except  when  Aunt  Anna  and 
I  taught  each  other.  But  you  mustn't 
tell  father  about  the  clavichord,  your 
grace,  because  it  is  a  secret,  and  father 
told  me  to  give  away  my  own  instru- 
ments, and  Aunt  Anna  would  n't  like  to 
give  away  her  clavichord,  so  please  don't 
let  him  know  about  it." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  he  knows  already," 
said  the  duke,  smiling  ;  and  at  his  signal, 
the  Halle  surgeon  emerged  from  his 
corner,  pale  with  amazement. 

Georg  was  so  confounded  at  sight  of 
his  parent,  that,  unable  to  meet  his  ex- 
pected look  of  condemnation,  he  buried 
his  face  in  the  folds  of  the  duke's  break- 
fast cloth. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Handel,"  said  the 
duke,  "  that  I  betrayed  the  child's  secret. 
Had  I  known  there  was  anything  confi- 
dential in  the  interview,  I  should  have 
held  it  in  private.  But  now  that  the 
mischief  is  done,  will  you  tell  me  why 
you  oppose  the  musical  study  that  Georg 
desires  ? " 

[127] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME   FAMOUS  MEN 

"  Merely,  your  grace,  because  he  neg- 
lects his  school  for  music  when  I  allow 
it.  I  am  a  music-lover  myself,  but  I 
wish  to  educate  my  son  for  a  jurist,  and 
I  cannot  have  the  plan  interfered  with, 
even  by  music." 

"  Let  me  suggest,  then,  that  you  allow 
the  music  lessons  and  compel  the  school 
lessons,  taking  away  the  instrument  if 
he  fails  at  school ;  and  when  he  is  old 
enough  and  wise  enough  to  be  a  jurist, 
he  will  be  capable  of  choosing  for  him- 
self the  work  of  his  life." 

"  I  thank  you,  your  grace  !  The  ad- 
vice is  fair  and  judicious,  and  I  shall  be 
happy  to  act  upon  it.  If  I  have  made  a 
mistake,  it  was  out  of  concern  for  the 
child's  best  good,  your  grace." 

"  An  error  on  the  safe  side,  Mr.  Han- 
del. A-ha,  my  small  minstrel,  do  you 
hear  how  your  father  and  I  have  arranged 
matters  ? " 

Georg  had  not  fully  understood  the 
conversation,  but  he  gathered  that  the 
duke  had  somehow  persuaded  the  sur- 
[128] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

geon  to  allow  his  little  son  to  play  upon 
the  clavichord  as  much  as  he  wished,  if 
he  were  faithful  at  school. 

"  Does  the  prospect  please  you  ? " 
asked  the  duke,  his  eyes  twinkling. 

"  It  does,  it  does  ! "  cried  Georg,  his 
face  radiant.  "  I  am  obliged  to  your 
grace,  and  I  am  sure  that  you  are  almost 
as  good  and  fine  a  person  as  my  Aunt 
Anna." 

One  night,  in  London,  a  concert  was 
given  at  a  certain  music-hall,  and  the 
money  earned  from  the  sale  of  tickets 
was  to  be  used  to  relieve  the  poor  chil- 
dren of  the  city. 

Such  a  throng  of  people  crowded  into 
the  hall  that  every  seat  was  promptly 
filled,  and  the  door-keepers  were  obliged 
to  turn  away  many  who  desired  to  at- 
tend. 

King  George  II.  appeared  in  the  royal 

box,  and  when  he  had  been  respectfully 

saluted  by  the  people,  the  hall  grew  still. 

The  stage  was  filled  with  singers,  and 

9  [  129  J 


BOYS   WHO   BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

soon  the  room  resounded  with  the  thrill- 
ing notes  of  a  new  piece  called  "  The 
Messiah." 

The  people  had  expected  to  be  only 
pleasantly  entertained,  but  as  one  strain 
followed  another,  they  bent  forward 
entranced.  Such  harmonies  they  had 
never  listened  to  before,  and  the  people 
in  the  hall  were  moved  to  the  point  of 
tears.  At  length  the  sounds  grew  so 
impressive  that  the  king  could  contain 
himself  no  longer,  but  leaped  to  his 
feet.  Instantly  the  people,  following 
the  lead  of  their  sovereign,  rose  impul- 
sively in  their  places,  and  so  standing, 
they  waited  until  the  glorious  chorus 
was  ended. 

Throughout  the  performance,  a  fine 
old  gentleman  sat  quietly  on  the  stage 
near  the  singers,  listening  intently.  His 
face  wore  a  look  of  noble  earnestness,  and 
he  did  not  smile  until  the  last  note  died 
away,  and  from  every  part  of  the  house 
voices  cried,  — 

"Handel!  Handel!" 
[130] 


GEORGES  CHAMPION 

For  a  moment  he  did  not  respond  to 
their  calls,  but  as  the  hall  fell  into  a 
tumult,  and  the  shout  increased  to  a 
deafening  roar,  the  white-haired  gentle- 
man rose  and  quietly  bowed. 

This  did  not  satisfy  the  crowd,  and 
from  above,  below,  from  right  and  from 
left,  excited  men  and  women  demanded 
that  he  should  play  for  them. 

The  old  gentleman  bowed  again,  but 
finding  that  the  audience  would  not  de- 
part until  he  had  yielded  to  its  desire,  he 
turned  toward  the  massive  organ  at  his 
right. 

Before  he  had  taken  a  step,  one  of  the 
singers  hurried  to  his  side,  laid  a  hand 
upon  his  arm,  and  conducted  him  slowly 
to  the  organ-bench.  Then  it  was  that 
any  stranger  would  have  learned  what 
all  London  understood,  —  that  the 
courtly  old  gentleman  was  blind. 

At  the  first  rich  chord  from  the  organ, 

a  hush  fell  upon  the  room,  and  when  the 

silvery-haired  musician  finished,  and  rose 

to  his  feet  with  another  stately  bow,  the 

[131] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

people  silently  filed  out,  too  stirred  by 
the  grandeur  of  his  music  for  ordinary 
speech. 

That  night,  in  the  city  of  London, 
hundreds  of  suffering  and  friendless  chil- 
dren were  gathered  into  places  of  refuge, 
and  were  fed,  warmed,  and  clothed  with 
the  money  earned  by  the  genius  and  lov- 
ing-kindness of  Georg  Friedrich  Handel. 


[132] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS   ONE 

[COLERIDGE] 

UP  to  London,  one  May  morning, 
came  Samuel  Coleridge,  and  as  the 
coach  rattled  over  the  pavements,  and 
the  roar  and  tumult  of  the  city  filled  his 
ears,  the  boy  clutched  his  uncle's  arm 
with  delight.  Never  before  in  all  his 
ten  years  had  he  journeyed  beyond  the 
quaint  country  village  where  he  was 
born,  and  the  dun  clouds  of  city  smoke 
caused  him  to  look  expectantly  about 
for  rain. 

His  uncle  laughed  and  patted  the  boy's 
arm  good-naturedly.  "  Never  mind,"  he 
said ;  "  these  crowded  streets  will  soon 
become  as  homelike  to  you  as  one  of 
your  Devonshire  fields." 

Mr.  Bowdon  was  right,  and  at  the  end 

of  a  week  Samuel  could  go  alone  about 

the  quarter  of  the  city  where  his  uncle 

resided,  and  his  ears  grew  so  accustomed 

[133] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

to  the  mighty  din  that  he  quite  forgot 
there  was  any  noise  to  hear. 

Samuel  was  the  youngest  of  thirteen 
children.  His  mother  was  a  widow,  and 
gradually  she  had  become  too  poor  to 
provide  food  and  shelter  for  so  great  a 
family.  To  be  sure,  the  oldest  brothers 
and  sisters  aided  her  as  best  they  could, 
but  times  were  hard,  money  was  scarce 
at  best,  and  when  Uncle  Bowdon  pro- 
posed to  undertake  the  care  and  educa- 
tion of  Samuel  his  offer  was  thankfully 
accepted.  It  was  planned  that  the  boy 
should  visit  at  his  uncle's  house  for 
several  weeks,  and  that  later  in  the 
summer  he  should  enter  the  famous 
charity  school  known  as  Christ's  Hospi- 
tal. Many  families  sought  to  send  their 
sons  to  this  school,  but  only  those  pupils 
were  admitted  who  were  too  poor  to 
pay  for  their  education. 

Samuel  was  tall  for  his  age,  and  very 
dark.  He  was  attractive  without  being 
handsome,  for  his  striking  look  of  in- 
telligence, his  slight,  straight  figure  and 
[134] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

ready  laughter,  earned  for  him  the  frank- 
est approval  of  friends  and  strangers  too. 

Mr.  Bowdon  was  exceedingly  proud 
of  him,  and  often  took  him  to  his  club, 
that  his  friends  might  become  acquainted 
with  his  young  guest.  Also  Mr.  Bow- 
don planned  frequent  excursions  about 
the  city,  so  that  his  nephew  might  enjoy 
the  notable  sights  of  London.  These 
were  indeed  gala  days  for  Samuel,  and 
when  the  time  came  for  him  to  go  to 
school  he  could  scarcely  believe  that  ten 
weeks  had  flown  since  he  had  come  up 
by  the  coach  from  his  country  home.  It 
is  doubtful  whether  Mr.  Bowdon  would 
have  been  willing  to  part  with  the  lad 
even  after  so  long  a  visit,  but  his  business 
just  at  this  time  compelled  him  to  take  a 
long  journey  to  the  East  Indies,  and  he 
desired  to  see  the  boy  safely  established 
before  departing  from  London. 

Accordingly,  one  fine  July  afternoon, 

uncle  and  nephew  arrived  at  the  great 

school  in  Newgate  Street,  through  whose 

high  iron  gate  they  were  admitted  by  a 

[135] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

boy  wearing  a  queer  costume  of  blue 
and  yellow.  Samuel  had  no  eyes  for 
the  stately  buildings  grouped  about  the 
enclosure,  for  across  the  shaded  central 
grass-plot  marched  a  veritable  army  of 
boys,  walking  four  abreast  with  military 
precision.  Like  the  page  at  the  gate, 
they  wore  long  blue  coats  reaching  nearly 
to  the  ankle  and  trimly  girdled  with  red, 
bright  yellow  stockings,  low  buckled 
shoes  and  neckbands  of  snowy  white- 
ness. Oddly  enough,  their  heads  were 
bare,  and  Samuel  supposed  that  they 
had  left  their  caps  behind,  though  he 
learned  later  that  the  "  king's  boys,"  as 
these  were  called,  never  wore  head 
coverings  of  any  description,  but  went 
serenely  abroad  in  all  weathers,  guiltless 
of  beaver,  helmet,  or  turban. 

On  they  came,  more  boys  and  more 
boys,  until  Samuel  grew  fairly  dizzy  with 
watching  the  steadily  moving  column. 

"  What  is  the  occasion  ? "  inquired 
Mr.  Bowdon  of  the  gatekeeper. 

"  The  lord  mayor  is  visiting  the  school 
[136] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

to-day,  sir,  and  the  scholars  are  going 
now  to  hear  his  address." 

When  the  gayly  apparelled  procession 
had  gone  in,  the  steward  of  the  school, 
a  young  man  in  russet  gown,  came  to 
greet  the  strangers  and  to  show  them 
about  the  place.  He  conducted  them 
through  the  twelve  dormitories,  where 
rows  of  narrow  white  beds  stood  side  by 
side  down  either  wall ;  to  the  dining-hall 
with  its  long  tables,  where  all  the  stu- 
dents sat  down  at  once  ;  and  to  the  office 
of  the  registrar,  a  spectacled  old  gentle- 
man, who  took  down  a  great  book  and 
gravely  wrote  upon  one  of  its  yellowish 
pages,  - 

"  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  aged  ten ; 
born  at  Ottery  St.  Mary,  Devonshire, 
October,  1772.  Regularly  entered  at 
Christ's  Hospital,  July  18,  1782." 

Then  Mr.  Bowdon  took  his  departure, 
for  he  was  to  leave  the  city  at  nightfall. 
Samuel  accompanied  him  to  the  gate, 
where  he  received  his  uncle's  affectionate 
farewells,  then  peering  wistfully  through 
[137] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

the  iron  palings,  he  watched  the  portly 
figure  move  slowly  down  Newgate  Street, 
until  it  was  lost  to  view  in  the  passing 
crowds. 

With  the  last  glimpse  of  Mr.  Bowdon, 
Samuel  was  seized  with  a  sudden  panic 
of  fear  and  loneliness,  for  never  before 
had  he  been  out  of  the  sight  of  kindred 
faces,  nor  out  of  the  sound  of  kindred 
voices.  Even  the  page  had  left  the 
gate,  and  Samuel  clung  to  the  palings 
in  strange  dismay.  His  attention  was 
arrested  by  the  doors  of  the  lecture-hall 
being  thrown  open  and  the  blue  and 
yellow  procession  reappearing,  headed 
by  the  lord  mayor  of  London  and  a 
company  of  white-wigged,  black-gowned 
masters  and  tutors.  The  gate  swung 
back,  the  lord  mayor  received  a  military 
salute  from  the  boys,  and  passed  out  to 
his  waiting  carriage,  and  at  sound  of  a 
clanging  bell  the  procession  turned  and 
wound  its  way  to  the  dining-hall,  leaving 
the  campus  deserted  except  for  the  pres- 
ence of  one  young  stranger. 
[138] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

"  I  wonder  if  I  am  to  go  in,  or  if  I  am 
to  have  any  supper  at  all,"  queried  the 
boy,  looking  anxiously  about,  as  he  sud- 
denly awakened  to  the  fact  that  he  was 
fearfully  hungry.  "  Nobody  knows  that 
I  am  here  but  the  steward  and  the  old 
man  with  the  book." 

His  doubts  were  relieved  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  brown-robed  steward, 
who  beckoned  to  him  from  the  entrance 
of  the  dining-hall. 

Samuel  sped  to  his  side,  and  was 
ushered  into  the  vast  apartment  where 
the  pupils  sat  at  dinner.  Quiet  reigned 
here,  broken  only  by  a  subdued  conver- 
sation at  the  masters'  table,  and  the  voice 
of  a  tutor  who  from  a  desk  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  room  read  a  Latin  oration  for 
the  entertainment  of  those  present. 

Samuel  was  conducted  to  a  vacant  seat 
at  one  of  the  long  tables,  where  a  wooden 
bowl  of  soup  and  a  slice  of  bread  awaited 
him.  These  he  quickly  despatched,  and 
turning  to  the  boy  on  his  right,  was 
about  to  inquire  modestly  how  he  should 
[139] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

get  a  fresh  supply,  when  his  neighbor 
hastily  pressed  his  finger  to  his  lips,  as  a 
sign  that  speech  was  forbidden.  Samuel 
was  surprised  at  this  injunction,  especially 
as  he  was  still  hungry,  and  glancing  about 
the  board,  he  discovered  that  every  other 
bowl  was  as  empty  as  his  own,  and  that 
no  single  crumb  of  bread  was  to  be 
seen. 

No  one  addressed  him,  but  he  was 
aware  that  numerous  pairs  of  eyes  were 
fixed  curiously  upon  him.  He  shrank 
from  this  open  scrutiny,  although  the 
boys  at  his  table  were  all  near  his  own 
age  ;  and  reddening,  he  gazed  persistently 
at  his  bowl. 

"  Ss  —  ss  1 "  came  in  a  soft  hiss  from  a 
lad  across  the  table. 

"  Ss  —  ss  !  Ss  —  ss  ! "  cautiously  echoed 
a  dozen  others. 

Samuel  wriggled  uncomfortably  in  his 
chair,  but  to  his  surprise,  his  neighbor  on 
the  right  reached  over  and  grasped  his 
knee  with  friendly  force.  Samuel  in- 
stantly responded  by  seizing  the  stranger's 
[140] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

knee,  and,  fortified  by  this  unlooked-for 
support,  threw  back  his  head  and  eyed 
in  turn  each  lad  at  the  table.  There 
was  something  in  his  fearless  glance  that 
caused  the  hisses  quickly  to  subside  ;  and 
when  the  bell  rang,  and  the  students 
trooped  out,  no  word  of  challenge  was 
offered  to  him.  Moreover,  no  other 
kind  of  words  came  either,  for  it  was  the 
hour  of  recreation,  and  the  boys  swarmed 
the  campus,  shouting,  whistling,  singing, 
and  engaging  in  various  athletic  games. 
The  most  popular  sports  seemed  to  be 
leap-frog  and  basting- the-bear,  for  groups 
everywhere  were  indulging  in  these 
rollicking  pastimes. 

Samuel  stood  alone  watching,  for  even 
his  neighbor  at  table  had  joined  the 
merry-makers.  He  decided  that  if  he 
wished  to  become  one  of  them  he  must 
make  a  bold  move ;  so,  marching  up  to 
one  of  the  leap-frog  companies,  he  ven- 
tured to  enter  the  game.  The  effort  was 
quickly  foiled,  however,  for  one  pupil 
seized  him  by  the  leg,  another  by  the 
[141] 


BOYS    WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

hair,  while  twenty  voices  shouted  at 
once,  — 

"  Clear  out !  Don't  you  know  you 
can't  play  with  us  till  you  get  your  blue 
coat  ? " 

Samuel  retired,  much  crestfallen,  won- 
dering when  he  should  be  promoted  to 
the  prevailing  uniform.  He  wandered 
up  and  down  the  schoolyard,  watching 
here,  watching  there,  hearing  never  a 
word  of  greeting,  nor  meeting  with  a 
friendly  nod  or  smile.  At  length  he 
came  upon  an  outer  stairway,  which 
seemed  to  lead  somewhere,  and  climbing 
it,  more  with  the  desire  to  get  away  from 
the  hordes  of  strangers  than  to  explore 
the  premises,  he  came  out  upon  a  flat, 
leaded  roof.  Resting  his  folded  arms 
upon  the  parapet,  he  stood  gazing  at  the 
evening  sky,  solitary  and  sad.  Up  to 
him  came  the  shouts  of  the  students  and 
the  roar  of  the  city's  noises,  and  for  the 
first  time  since  he  had  come  to  London, 
his  heart  turned  back  with  a  mighty 
longing  to  the  fields,  the  river,  and  the 
[142] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

simple  folk  of  his  native  village.  If  only 
he  might  hear  the  lapping  of  the  water 
and  the  tinkling  of  the  sheep  bells,  he 
would  give  all  that  he  possessed  in  the 
world.  He  thought  of  his  mother  and 
of  his  big  brother  Luke,  and  the  vision  of 
their  faces  came  before  him  with  such 
startling  plainness  that  he  set  his  teeth 
and  clenched  his  hands  to  stem  the  tide 
of  homesickness  that  surged  over  him. 

At  sound  of  the  deep-toned  bell,  he 
hurried  down  the  stair,  suspecting  that 
the  slender  supper  was  about  to  be  sup- 
plemented by  a  tea  or  luncheon  of  some 
sort ;  but  he  was  mistaken,  for,  although 
the  western  sky  was  still  ablaze,  the  boys 
were  filing  toward  the  dormitories. 

"  This  way,  Coleridge,"  called  the  stew- 
ard, appearing  on  the  green. 

"  Where  are  they  going  ? "  inquired 
Samuel. 

"  To  bed,"  rejoined  the  other  briefly. 

"  To  bed  1 "  ejaculated  Samuel ;  "  why, 
it 's  only  seven  o'clock ! " 

"  Seven  is  the  hour  for  bed  at  this 
[143] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

school,"  explained  the  other  shortly,  and 
Samuel  gathered  from  his  tone  that  fur- 
ther comment  would  be  unacceptable. 

Awakened  next  morning  by  the  signal 
bell,  Samuel  sat  up  in  his  narrow  cot  and 
blinked  sleepily.  Across  his  bed  was 
thrown  a  complete  uniform  such  as  the 
other  boys  wore,  and  springing  up,  he 
gladly  donned  the  costume,  and  marched 
down  with  the  others. 

At  breakfast  he  sat  in  the  same  seat  he 
had  occupied  last  night,  and  his  right- 
hand  neighbor  greeted  him  with  a  cordial 
pinch  on  the  arm. 

The  meal  this  morning  consisted  of 
a  quarter-of-a-penny-loaf,  on  a  wooden 
plate,  and  a  small  leathern  cup  of  beer. 
Samuel  was  accustomed  to  rich  country 
milk,  fruit,  and  vegetables  ;  but  with  yes- 
terday's hunger  still  unappeased,  he  could 
not  afford  to  be  fastidious.  In  a  twink- 
ling the  bread  and  beer  had  disappeared, 
and  he  was  unconsciously  glancing  about 
in  search  of  some  one  who  would  serve 
him  with  more,  when  he  chanced  to 
[144] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

notice  that  every  plate  and  cup  at  the 
table  was  swept  clean,  and  that  the  lads 
were  shifting  about  in  their  chairs  as 
though  anxious  to  be  dismissed.  Then 
it  was  that  Samuel  realized  with  a  curious 
pang  that  plates  were  never  refilled  at 
Christ's  Hospital,  and  that  the  allowance 
was  always  distressingly  small.  Almost 
as  hungry  as  when  he  had  sat  down,  he 
rose  with  the  others  and  passed  outside. 

He  was  about  to  speak  to  his  table 
neighbor,  when  that  young  person  sud- 
denly set  off  for  the  high  iron  palings. 
Without  stood  a  half-grown  girl,  hold- 
ing a  little  basket  on  her  arm,  and  when 
the  boy  came  up  with  her,  she  took 
something  from  the  tiny  hamper,  and 
passed  it  through  the  fence.  That  the 
gift  was  in  the  nature  of  food  of  some 
sort,  Samuel  discovered  from  the  alacrity 
with  which  the  boy  proceeded  to  devour 
it ;  and  the  lad  from  Devonshire  stood 
watching  the  operation  with  the  strang- 
est of  gnawing  sensations  inside  him. 
Other  boys  looked  greedily  at  this  spec- 
10  [  145  ] 


BOYS  WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

tacle,  but  went  about  their  affairs  as 
though  the  sight  were  a  familiar  one  ; 
and  Samuel,  following  their  example, 
was  turning  mechanically  away  when  a 
beckoning  gesture  from  the  lad  at  the 
fence  called  him  thither. 

"  Here,  I  like  you,  and  I  '11  give  you  a 
bit.  Come  on ! " 

Before  Samuel  had  time  to  accept  or 
decline,  the  stranger  had  crowded  into 
his  hand  a  hot  roll,  and  was  all  but  pour- 
ing a  small  can  of  tea  down  his  throat. 

"Thank  you  —  it's  fine,"  gurgled 
Samuel,  "but  I  don't  want  to  take  the 
things  you  ought  to  have." 

"  1  can  spare  some.  You  see  I  'm 
ashamed  to  have  this  stuff  brought  to 
me  when  the  other  boys  can't  get  any, 
but  when  it  comes,  I  'm  so  starved  I  eat 
it  anyway.  My  sister  brings  a  little 
breakfast  over  every  day,  for  our  house 
isn't  very  far  away,  and  it  helps  out,  I 
can  tell  you.  Here's  another  piece  of 
crust.  Eat  it,  quick,  for  I  know  you 
want  it." 

[  146  ] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

Samuel  accepted  the  proffered  frag- 
ments gladly,  frankly  confessing  that 
he  had  not  felt  quite  satisfied  at  break- 
fast. 

"Oh,  we  never  have  enough  here," 
remarked  the  other  calmly.  "  Wednes- 
days are  the  best,  for  then  they  give  us 
meat  stew  ;  but  that  happens  only  one 
day  in  seven." 

While  Samuel  swallowed  the  pleasing 
morsels,  he  keenly  examined  the  face  of 
his  generous  host.  The  strange  boy  was 
apparently  a  year  or  two  younger  than 
himself,  slightly  Jewish  in  appearance, 
and  very  handsome.  He  was  frail-look- 
ing, with  curling  black  hair,  bright  dark 
eyes,  and  sensitive  lips.  His  expression 
was  thoughtful,  and  something  in  his 
impulsive  manner  had  attracted  Samuel 
from  the  beginning. 

"  What 's  your  name  ?  "  demanded  the 
younger  lad,  when  Samuel  had  finished 
his  unexpected  breakfast. 

"  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge.  What 's 
yours  ? " 

[147] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"  Charles  Lamb  ;  and  this  is  my  sister 
Mary." 

The  girl  smiled  prettily,  and  waving 
her  basket  as  she  turned  to  go,  called 
back,  "  You  must  come  to  see  us  some 
time  with  Charles." 

Samuel  thanked  her  and  promised ; 
and  as  the  bell  rang,  summoning  the 
pupils  to  lessons,  he  inquired,— 

"  How  many  boys  are  there  here  ?  " 

"  Six  hundred." 

"  Plus  -one,  now  I  Ve  come." 

"  I  like  you,"  declared  Charles  again, 
linking  his  arm  with  that  of  the  new 
boy,  as  they  fell  into  line. 

"  I  like  you,  too,"  responded  the  other 
warmly ;  and  so  began  a  friendship  that 
grew  stronger  with  each  succeeding  day. 

Samuel  was  speedily  installed  in 
school  work,  and  having  been  a  book- 
lover  from  the  age  of  three,  he  was 
placed  in  a  class  of  boys  who  were  gen- 
erally older  than  himself.  With  these 
he  made  friends  at  once,  for  his  original- 
ity, both  in  work  and  play,  won  the  ad- 
[148], 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

miration  of  the  lads.  With  the  teachers, 
too,  Samuel  fared  better  than  most,  for 
while  James  Bowyer  was  not  a  man  to 
be  trifled  with,  having  always  a  birch 
twig  within  reach  for  the  correction  of 
young  offenders,  his  wrath  seldom  de- 
scended upon  pupils  so  apt  as  Samuel. 

"  But,"  cautioned  Charles,  "  look  out 
for  Jemmy  Bowyer  when  he  wears  his 
passy  wig  1 "  He  meant  passionate,  for 
on  some  occasions  the  head  master  ap- 
peared in  the  school-room  with  his 
smooth  and  carefully  powdered  wig  re- 
placed by  an  old,  unkempt,  and  discol- 
ored one,  and  woe  to  the  pupil  who 
failed  in  his  lessons  or  otherwise  dis- 
pleased him  while  thus  decorated  !  His 
head-dress  was  the  barometer  that 
warned  the  boys  of  his  moods,  and  they 
modelled  their  conduct  accordingly. 

Mr.  Bowyer  was  a  conscientious 
teacher,  who  desired  to  gi\re  the  lads 
most  thorough  and  careful  instruction, 
and  the  boys  who  studied  earnestly  were 
safe  from  the  touch  of  his  rod  except  on 
[149] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

the  days  when  he  wore  the  "  passy  wig." 
Then  his  temper  was  most  uncertain, 
and  worker  and  laggard  alike  were  fre- 
quently brought  to  judgment. 

At  the  end  of  a  week,  Samuel  felt  as 
though  he  had  been  a  member  of  Christ's 
Hospital  for  a  long,  long  time.  Each 
day  was  spent  like  every  other  day,  and 
he  soon  found  himself  going  through  the 
routine  of  study,  recitation,  play,  and  sleep 
as  familiarly  as  the  oldest  student  there. 

On  Saturday  morning  Charles  said,  — 

"  This  is  our  weekly  holiday,  you 
know.  Where  will  you  go  ? " 

"  Nowhere,  I  suppose,"  replied  Samuel. 
"  My  uncle  has  left  town,  and  I  don't 
know  anybody  else  in  London,  so  I  think 
I  '11  have  to  stay  here." 

"  You  can't  do  that." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  nobody  is  allowed  to  stay 
inside  the  grounds  on  leave-days.  We 
are  all  turned  out  as  soon  as  breakfast  is 
over,  the  gates  are  locked,  and  we  can't 
come  in  again  until  evening." 
[150] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

"  But  surely  they  won't  send  us  out 
who  have  no  friends  in  London ! " 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  will.  But  come  along, 
and  we  11  spend  the  day  together  some- 
where. I  'm  not  going  home  this  time, 
because  my  people  are  away  at  work." 

At  eight  o'clock  six  hundred  boys  filed 
into  Newgate  Street  and  scattered  in  all 
directions.  For  those  whose  parents 
resided  in  town,  this  weekly  holiday  was 
always  most  welcome  ;  but  to  the  boys 
who  had  neither  kindred  nor  friends 
within  reach,  the  enforced  leave-day 
was  often  a  difficult  one. 

To-day  Samuel  and  Charles  walked 
about  the  streets  for  a  time,  then  made 
their  way  to  the  bank  of  the  New  River. 
Here,  to  Samuel's  delight,  green  fields 
stretched  before  them,  birds  twittered 
in  the  trees,  and  sleek  cows  browsed 
along  the  shore. 

"  Oh,  oh  1 "  he  exclaimed,  "  this  is 
almost  as  good  as  the  real  country." 

With  one  accord  the  boys  snatched 
off  their  garments  and  plunged  into  the 
[151] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

stream.  Both  were  good  swimmers,  and 
they  splashed  about,  diving,  floating, 
and  showing  their  skill  in  various  ways, 
until  they  grew  tired.  Ascending  the 
bank,  they  dressed  quickly  and  wandered 
farther  up  the  stream.  For  a  while  they 
threw  stones  into  the  current,  watching 
the  eddies  widen  from  each  pebble  that 
sank  into  the  water ;  and  after  a  time 
they  lounged  against  a  convenient  tree, 
Samuel  relating  stories  that  he  had  read 
of  ancient  heroes,  and  Charles  eagerly 
listening. 

"  I  wonder  what  time  it  is,"  hinted 
the  latter  at  length. 

"Not  much  past  noon,"  replied  Samuel, 
glancing  at  the  sun  with  the  experienced 
eye  of  the  country-bred. 

"  Would  n't  it  be  fine  if  we  were  cows, 
with  a  whole  field-full  of  dinner  spread 
before  us,"  murmured  Charles,  gazing  at 
the  Alderneys  beyond. 

"  And  see  how  fat  that  bird  is !  He 
must  eat  four  or  five  meals  every  day  ! " 
exclaimed  Samuel ;  then  hastening  to 
[152] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

turn  the  conversation  to  topics  less  vital, 
he  asked  genially,  — 

"  What  things  do  you  like  best  in  the 
world  ? " 

"  Let  me  see,"  mused  Charles  ;  "  yes, 
I  know  very  well.  I  like  money,  vege- 
tables, and  my  sister  Mary.  What  do 
you  ? " 

"  Homes,  churches,  trees,  and  old  peo- 
ple's faces,"  returned  Samuel  promptly. 
"  What  shall  we  do  now,  —  go  back 
into  town  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  for  if  we  do,  we  must  keep 
on  walking  for  four  or  five  hours." 

"  Let 's  go  swimming  again,  then." 

"I'm  with  you,"  and  a  minute  later 
they  descended  into  the  river  for  the 
second  time. 

Both  were  almost  as  much  at  home  in 
water  as  on  land,  and  they  swam  about, 
teaching  one  another  aquatic  tricks  un- 
til they  became  quite  breathless.  Mak- 
ing for  the  shore,  they  climbed  weakly 
up  the  bank,  and  only  partially  robing, 
dropped  side  by  side  upon  the  sward. 
[153] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Overcome  by  fatigue,  Charles  fell 
asleep,  while  Samuel  lay  panting  and 
composing  verses  about  the  Seven  Cham- 
pions of  Christendom. 

Finally  they  rose,  languid  and  droop- 
ing, and  trudged  back  to  the  school  in 
Newgate  Street,  sorry  that  their  holiday 
was  done,  but  thankful  for  the  supper, 
however  meagre,  that  would  presently 
be  served  to  them. 

As  the  weeks  passed  by  and  summer 
slowly  gave  place  to  autumn,  Samuel 
made  rapid  progress  in  his  classes.  He 
studied  almost  constantly,  not  that  he 
meant  to  be  especially  dutiful,  but 
because  he  loved  printed  pages  better 
than  any  other  company.  He  was  born 
with  a  thirst  for  books,  which  made  him 
con  his  lessons  eagerly  in  the  absence  of 
other  and  more  entertaining  volumes ; 
and  at  Christ's  Hospital  the  boys  had  no 
access  to  books  of  any  kind  besides  the 
text-books  used  in  their  regular  courses. 

With  no  fresh  stories,  histories,  or 
poems  to  feed  his  ravenous  young  mind, 
[154] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

Samuel  was  obliged  to  dwell  upon  the 
tales  and  truths  he  had  read  before  com- 
ing to  London.  He  soon  became  known 
among  the  students  as  a  capital  story- 
teller, and  often  he  would  be  found 
seated  tailor-fashion  in  a  remote  corner 
of  the  playground,  surrounded  by  a 
dozen  choice  spirits  who  listened  open- 
eyed  and  open-mouthed  to  his  dramatic 
recitals. 

One  Saturday  in  November  he  was 
walking  down  the  Strand.  Charles  had 
gone  to  spend  this  leave-day  with  his 
parents,  and  Samuel  was  tramping  about 
the  streets  alone.  His  thoughts  were 
busy  with  his  favorite  hero,  Leander, 
and  so  absorbed  did  he  become  in  the 
story  that  he  entirely  forgot  the  presence 
of  the  crowds  in  the  busy  thoroughfare. 
Reviewing  the  stirring  scene  when  Le- 
ander swims  the  Hellespont  to  visit  the 
priestess,  on  the  opposite  shore,  Samuel 
unconsciously  threw  out  both  arms  as 
though  buffeting  the  waves,  and  one 
hand  smartly  rapped  the  coat  tails  of  a 
[155J 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

respectable  gentleman  walking  immedi- 
ately before  him. 

Samuel  started  in  confusion  at  being 
brought  back  so  suddenly  from  Grecian 
clouds  to  London  pavements,  and  offered 
a  stammering  apology  ;  but  the  citizen 
wheeled  abruptly,  grasped  his  arm,  and 
frowned  down  upon  him  with  mingled 
horror  and  distaste. 

"  What !  So  young  and  so  wicked  ! 
Who  could  believe  that  a  stripling  like 
you  would  attempt  to  pick  my  pocket 
in  broad  daylight !  Mm  —  mm  ! " 

"  You  're  mistaken,  you  're  mistaken, 
indeed  you  are,"  protested  Samuel ;  "  I 
was  thinking  about  Leander  crossing  the 
Hellespont,  and  I  must  have  been  swim- 
ming too.  I  didn't  even  see  you,  sir, 
truly  I  didn't." 

"  Leander !  Well,  my  young  gentle- 
man, what  do  you  know  about  Leander  ? " 

Samuel  explained  that  he  had  read  and 
re-read  all  the  mythical  tales  of  Greece, 
and  that  he  often  thought  them  over  for 
amusement. 

[156] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

The  stranger's  expression  softened. 

"  You  are  fond  of  books,  then  ? " 

"  I  love  'em,  sir ! " 
.  "  Do  you  read  every  day  ?  " 

"  Not  since  I  came  to  London,  for  we 
have  no  books  except  our  lesson  books 
at  school." 

"  Mm  —  mm  !  Should  you  like  to 
read  if  you  had  the  opportunity  ? " 

"Wouldn't  I?"  burst  out  Samuel, 
with  enthusiasm. 

"  I  think  we  can  arrange  matters  then. 
A  boy  who  swims  with  Leander  down 
London  Strand,  causing  people  to  take 
him  for  a  sneak  thief,  ought  surely  to 
have  books  to  read,"  and  pressing  a 
yellow  card  into  Samuel's  hand,  he 
continued,  — 

"  This  is  a  ticket  to  a  circulating  library 
in  Cheapside.  By  showing  this  to  the 
librarian  you  can  draw  as  many  books  as 
you  like.  Good  day,  my  young  gentle- 
man ! " 

Without    waiting  to   hear    Samuel's 
exclamations  of  gratitude,  the  stranger 
[157] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

was  off,  leaving  the  boy  overjoyed  in  the 
street. 

From  that  day  the  school  life  was  made 
more  bearable  by  the  precious  fruit  of 
the  yellow  ticket.  Hunger,  cold,  lone- 
liness, and  punishments  were  daily  for- 
gotten in  the  adventures  of  knights  of  old. 
Samuel  took  all  risks  in  slipping  out  to 
get  the  books,  but,  fortunately,  he  was 
never  detected,  and  he  proceeded  to  read 
straight  through  the  library  at  the  rate 
of  two  volumes  daily. 

The  ruggedness  of  his  present  life,  how- 
ever, could  not  be  entirely  smoothed 
by  stories  and  poetry.  Christ's  Hospital 
did  not  differ  from  other  charity  schools 
of  the  time  in  its  discipline  and  arrange- 
ments for  the  welfare  of  its  inmates  ;  and 
indeed  many  of  the  great  schools  of  Eng- 
land, Germany,  and  France,  whose  walls 
could  be  entered  only  by  the  payment 
of  extravagant  fees,  were  similarly  con- 
ducted. Instructors  had  not  yet  learned 
that  young  bodies  should  be  cared  for  as 
zealously  as  young  brains,  and  that  hap- 
[158] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE  _ 

piness  promotes  better  work  than  does 
distress.  They  managed  their  schools 
exactly  as  had  their  fathers  before  them, 
deeming  it  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  that  growing  boys  should  be 
poorly  nourished  and  poorly  warmed. 

As  winter  drew  on,  Samuel  yearned 
deeply  for  his  home.  He  pictured  to 
himself  the  family  in  the  comfortable  old 
house  in  Devonshire,  and  his  thoughts 
clung  so  feverishly  to  the  images  of  his 
mother  and  his  big  brother  Luke  that 
even  his  dreams  enfolded  them,  and 
often  he  awoke  weeping  in  the  night. 
He  could  not  inform  the  loved  ones  of 
his  dreary  condition,  for  all  letters 
written  by  the  students  were  read  by 
the  masters  before  being  posted,  and  if 
unfavorable  comments  were  found  there- 
in, the  notes  were  promptly  destroyed. 

Charles  Lamb  was  ever  Samuel's  great- 
est solace.  They  met  their  little  world 
together,  fighting,  dreaming,  hoping,  and 
depending  upon  each  other  for  company 
at  all  times.  Both  were  gayly  disposed 
[159] 


SOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

and  many  were  the  daring  pranks  they 
played  on  their  mates  and  upon  each 
other.  The  leave-days  were  almost  the 
hardest  of  the  week  for  Samuel,  as  Charles 
usually  went  home,  and  he  was  left  to 
walk  the  streets  alone  from  morning  till 
night.  Sometimes  he,  too,  paid  a  visit 
to  the  Lambs,  but  finding  that  they  were 
very  poor  and  very  busy  people,  he 
feared  that  his  presence  might  seem  an 
intrusion,  so  he  usually  stayed  away. 

One  winter's  day  Samuel  was  walking 
slowly  round  Newgate  market.  He  had 
no  interest  in  Newgate  market,  but  he 
must  walk  somewhere,  and  this  was  as 
good  a  place  as  any.  A  cold  rain  beat 
pitilessly  upon  his  uncovered  head,  and 
from  time  to  time  he  drew  his  blue  coat 
more  closely  about  him.  Everyone  but 
himself  seemed  in  a  hurry  to  get  to 
places  of  shelter,  and  occasionally  persons 
would  pause  to  stare  curiously  at  the  lad 
who  stood  motionless  in  the  downpour, 
gazing  listlessly  into  shop  windows. 
Whenever  he  found  a  deserted  stair  or 
[160] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

vestibule,  he  stole  in  and  read  until  he 
was  curtly  despatched  by  owner  or  police- 
man. Round  and  round  the  square  he 
trod,  jaded,  famished,  waiting  for  the 
hours  to  drag  themselves  by. 

Suddenly  revolting  at  the  sights  and 
sounds  of  the  market,  Samuel  hurried 
into  a  by-street,  turning  to  the  right 
here,  to  the  left  there,  bent  only  upon 
leaving  the  deadly  familiar  spot  behind. 
On  he  went,  shivering  and  footsore.  On 
he  went,  purposeless  and  oppressed.  He 
was  usually  able  to  gather  odd  bits  of 
pleasure  and  information  from  these 
weekly  excursions,  but  to-day  the  city 
seemed  like  a  dull  and  winding  lane, 
where  one  had  no  choice  but  to  walk 
and  walk  until  nightfall  brought  the  end. 
Even  cathedrals,  bird-stores,  and  persons 
attired  in  black,  which  ordinarily  proved 
highly  diverting,  failed  to  arrest  his 
attention,  and  he  tramped  the  flooded 
pavements  hour  after  hour  and  mile 
upon  mile. 

Finally  he  halted  before  a  toy-shop 
11  [  161  J 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

whose  windows  looked  into  a  narrow 
court,  and  was  glancing  over  the  dis- 
play of  balls,  dolls,  and  fishing-rods, 
when  a  delicious  odor  of  cooked  food 
greeted  him  from  behind.  Samuel  faced 
about  so  sharply  that  he  almost  sent  a 
baker's  boy  sprawling,  who  chanced  to 
be  turning  into  the  court  with  a  huge 
basket  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Look  out !  Look  out !  Would  you 
try  to  upset  a  hard-workin'  cove  ? " 
bawled  the  white-capped  'prentice  ;  but 
Samuel  allowed  him  to  pass  unanswered, 
for  with  the  whiff  of  meaty  fragrance 
his  stomach  gave  a  furious  lurch,  and  his 
head  seemed  about  to  swim  off  his 
shoulders.  He  swayed  unsteadily,  caught 
blindly  at  the  window  ledge,  and  leaned 
his  forehead  against  the  dripping  stone  as 
he  struggled  to  regain  his  self-command. 

"  Blue  Coat !  " 

The  name  was  shouted  into  his  ear,  and 
Samuel  was  dizzily   conscious  of  being 
collared    from    behind,    while   a   strong 
arm  pulled  him  smartly  erect. 
[162] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  quavered 
the  boy,  alarmed  at  the  gruff  tone  and 
iron  hand.  Twisting  his  head  about,  he 
got  a  glimpse  of  a  very  fat  man  with 
a  round  red  face  and  protruding  blue 
eyes. 

"  What  made  ye  look  so  hard  at  my 
baker's  boy  ?  Anything  wrong  ? " 

"  No-o ! " 

"  Must  ha'  been.  You  glared  after 
him  like  a  tiger." 

"  Nothing  was  the  matter  except  I 
was  so  hungry,  —  and  —  when  I  smelled 
the  bread  and  meat — I  couldn't  help 
it,  I  suppose." 

For  the  first  time  since  he  had  become 
a  pupil  at  Christ's  Hospital,  Samuel  gave 
voice  to  his  privations,  and,  unmanned 
by  sheer  want  and  exhaustion,  the  truth 
came  out,  while  tears  of  misery  rained 
down  his  pallid  cheeks. 

"  Hungry  1"  The  ejaculation  came 
like  the  report  of  a  small  cannon. 

Samuel  could  only  nod  in  speechless, 
desperate  assent. 

[163] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"  Come  in  here  ! "  roared  the  captor, 
enforcing  his  order  with  a  ferocious  tug 
at  the  blue  collar. 

Samuel  feared  that  he  had  somehow 
trespassed  upon  the  big  man's  rights,  and 
that  punishment  was  likely  to  follow. 
He  longed  vaguely  to  run,  but  weakness 
held  him  chained,  and  he  felt  himself 
being  pushed  before  his  jailer  through 
the  toy-shop  and  into  a  small  parlor  at 
the  rear. 

"Mother!  This  Blue  Coat  is  so 
hungry  that  he  nearly  devoured  our 
dinner  through  his  eyes  as  the  baker 
brought  it  in." 

"  Hungry  ? "  echoed  a  piping  feminine 
voice,  and  from  the  farther  corner  of  the 
parlor  a  little  woman  approached  with  a 
napkin  thrown  over  her  arm. 

"  Sakes  alive,  ain't  you  had  no  dinner 
over  to  the  school?"  she  asked  in  a 
motherly  tone  that  set  Samuel's  heart 
beating. 

"  No.  We  don't  have  any  dinner  on 
Saturdays.  They  give  us  a  little  supper 
[164] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

when  we  go  back,"  and  Samuel  explained 
the  holiday  system. 

"  What,  then,  did  you  have  for 
breakfast  ? " 

"  A  slice  of  bread  and  a  cup  of 
beer." 

"  How  perfectly  outraging  !  Our  din- 
ner is  just  ready,  so  sit  up  to  the  table  as 
quick  as  you  can.  'T  ain't  a  fancy  meal, 
but  it's  good  enough  to  fill  up  a  hol- 
low, faintin'  stomach.  How  perfectly 
outraging ! " 

Before  Samuel  could  consent  or  ob- 
ject, he  was  thrust  into  a  chair  at  the 
small  round  table,  where  several  steam- 
ing dishes  awaited  the  pleasure  of  the 
party.  Host  and  hostess  took  their 
places,  and  a  heaped-up  plate  was  speed- 
ily set  before  the  astonished  guest. 

"  Eat  that  slice  of  hot  mutton,"  adjured 
the  woman  pleasantly  ;  "  and  after  that, 
you  '11  find  those  potatoes  and  beans 
pretty  satisfyin'." 

The  substantial  repast  seemed  a  kingly 
banquet  to  Samuel,  and  he  ate  with  al- 
[165] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

most  wolfish  appreciation.  His  plate 
was  like  the  widow's  cruse  of  oil,  which 
was  promptly  refilled  as  soon  as  emptied  ; 
and  the  fat  man  and  the  little  woman 
looked  on,  the  while,  with  benevolence 
shining  from  their  faces. 

"  Now,"  said  the  hostess,  when  Samuel 
could  take  no  more,  not  even  a  second 
slice  of  currant  pudding,  "  while  we  sip 
our  tea,  we  '11  tell  each  other  who  each 
other  is.  My  husband  over  there  is  Mr. 
Crispin,  and  I  'm  Mrs.  Crispin.  He  has 
the  toy-shop  that  you  came  through,  and 
he  is  a  shoemaker,  besides.  We  never 
had  any  children,  and  we  just  live  along 
here,  contented  with  what  good  things 
we  have.  Now  Mr.  Crispin  is  the  best 
man  in  the  world  —  " 

"  Hush,  hush,  my  dear!"  burst  out 
the  big  man,  a  tremendous  blush  spread- 
ing over  his  honest  face. 

"  He  is,  so  there  1  He  talks  loud  and 
kind  o'  scary,  but  he  could  n't  say  '  no ' 
to  a  kitten.  Now,  little  Blue  Coat,  tell 
us  who  you  are." 

[166] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

Samuel  had  quite  regained  his  usual 
bright  manner  under  the  spell  of  their 
hospitality,  and  he  gladly  told  them  of  the 
home  and  loved  ones  he  had  left  behind  in 
Devonshire.  Pleased  to  see  the  Crispins 
interested,  he  described  many  droll  ad- 
ventures of  the  boys  at  school,  and  these 
set  the  worthy  pair  laughing  mightily. 

After  dinner,  Mr.  Crispin  showed  his 
young  visitor  all  the  glories  of  the  toy- 
shop and  the  shoemaking  den.  Mrs. 
Crispin  with  much  pride  exhibited  four 
canaries,  a  yellow  patchwork  quilt,  and  a 
coral  breastpin  ;  and  Samuel  was  warmed 
to  the  heart  by  their  simple  kindliness. 

The  afternoon  wore  away  all  too  soon, 
and  when  he  was  leaving,  Samuel  held 
Mrs.  Crispin's  hand  tightly  in  both  of 
his,  as  he  tried  to  thank  her  for  the 
blessed  visit. 

"  'T  ain't  nothing  at  all !  "  protested  she 
earnestly.  "  Who  would  n't  give  a  nice- 
spoken  lad  a  bite  when  he  was  faintin' 
with  hungriness  on  the  very  doorstep, 
an'  him  a  Blue  Coat,  too  ?  Now  listen, 
[167J 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Sammy;  you  are  to  come  here  every 
Saturday.  If  we  should  n't  be  to  home, 
you  '11  find  the  key  under  the  rubber 
door-mat,  an'  you  can  come  right  in  an' 
help  yourself  in  the  pantry.  'T  ain't  just 
that  we  feel  sorry  to  see  you  starvin', 
but  we  like  children,  we  always  did, 
'specially  nice  ones,  an'  you  seem  so 
gentlemanly  mannered,  an'  we'd  feel 
honored  to  have  you  here.  Remember, 
every  Saturday,  now,  rain  or  shine." 

His  acquaintance  with  the  shoemaker 
and  his  wife  proved  the  greatest  relief  to 
Samuel.  Not  only  did  a  toothsome  din- 
ner await  him  every  leave-day  in  their 
modest  parlor,  but  the  whole-souled 
friendliness  of  their  innocent  welcome 
cheered  him  through  all  the  following 
days.  The  Crispins  looked  forward  to 
the  Saturday  visits  as  eagerly  as  did 
Samuel  himself,  and  this  assurance  gave 
the  boy  courage  to  come  with  regularity. 

During  the  springtime  Mr.  Crispin 
and  Samuel  even  planned  that  the  boy 
should  gain  permission  from  the  head 
[168] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

master  to  leave  Christ's  Hospital  alto- 
gether and  learn  the  shoemaking  trade 
under  Mr.  Crispin's  direction.  It  was 
arranged  that  the  shoemaker,  instead  of 
Samuel,  should  approach  Mr.  Bowyer 
with  the  request,  it  being  thought  that 
his  age  and  size  would  carry  more  influ- 
ence with  the  head  master ;  but  on  the 
day  set  for  the  interview  Mr.  Bowyer 
chanced  to  wear  his  "  passy  wig,"  and  he 
disposed  of  the  subject  by  shouting 
violently,  — 

"  'O  'ds  my  life,  man,  what  d'  ye  mean  ? " 
and  pushing  the  astounded  Crispin 
bodily  out  of  the  room. 

Samuel  was  so  disappointed  at  the 
failure  of  the  dazzling  scheme,  and  so 
mortified  at  the  treatment  his  friend  had 
received,  that  he  was  rushing  past  Mr. 
Bowyer  with  the  intention  of  apologizing 
to  Mr.  Crispin  for  having  drawn  him 
into  his  own  petty  troubles,  when  the 
head  master  stopped  him. 

"Some  one  is  waiting  to  see  you  in 
my  lower  office,  Master  Coleridge." 
[169] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"  To  see  me,  sir  ? " 

Samuel  was  taken  aback,  for  never 
before  had  any  one  paid  him  a  call  at 
Christ's  Hospital. 

"Who  can  it  be,  I  wonder.  Surely 
Mrs.  Crispin  would  not  come  here." 

Crossing  the  threshold  of  the  office,  he 
descried  a  stalwart  manly  form  at  the 
window. 

The  first  glance  seemed  to  stupefy 
the  lad.  He  halted  abruptly  in  the 
doorway,  his  hands  fell  limply  at  his 
sides,  and  he  seemed  unable  to  advance 
or  retreat.  It  only  needed  a  slight 
movement  on  the  visitor's  part  to  break 
the  tension,  when  Samuel  bounded  for- 
ward with  a  great  cry,  and  threw  him- 
self into  the  stranger's  arms. 

"  Luke,  Luke,  my  brother,  my  Luke, 
my  Luke  ! " 

"  Here  I  am,  little  fellow.  1  wanted 
to  surprise  you,  so  I  didn't  write." 

"  Oh,  Luke,  you  won't  go  away  again 
and  leave  me  here,  will  you?      Please, 
please  tell  me  that  you  won't ! " 
[170] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

"  I  shan't  leave  you  alone  in  the  city 
for  a  day,"  declared  the  young  man 
warmly.  "  I  have  come  up  to  walk  the 
London  Hospital,  so  I  shall  be  within 
easy  reach  hereafter.  Your  holidays 
you  shall  spend  with  me,  and  I  have  al- 
ready arranged  with  the  master  to  make 
you  comfortable  here  at  school.  Bless 
you,  little  fellow,  you  must  n't  quite  suf- 
focate me  with  your  hugging,  for  I  want 
to  live  and  take  good  care  of  you.  I  have 
waited  and  worked  for  this  ever  since 
you  came  to  London,  and  now  you  're 
going  to  have  fair  weather  all  round. 
Come  along  ;  I  Ve  just  begged  a  holiday 
for  you.  What  should  you  like  to  do  ? " 

"  Introduce  you  to  the  Crispins." 

"Very  well.  We'll  get  the  Crispins, 
and  go  for  a  ride  on  the  good  old  river 
Thames." 

"  A  boat  ride  !  A  boat  ride  !  Luke, 
do  you  care  if  I  ask  Charles  Lamb  to  go 
with  us  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit.  This  is  the  day  when  we  are 
going  to  do  just  as  we  please,  you  know." 
[171] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"  Oh,  Luke,  you  're  so  good,  and  you  '11 
like  the  Crispins,  and  Charles  '11  like  you 
—  and  —  and  —  isn't  the  world  beauti- 
ful to-day,  Luke  ? " 

In  a  cosy  little  parlor,  at  the  top  of  a 
London  stair,  a  dozen  persons  were  chat- 
ting together.  The  sounds  of  wind  and 
rain  upon  the  casement  only  served  to 
increase  the  warmth  and  brightness  of 
the  snug  apartment. 

Everybody  seemed  in  the  highest 
spirits,  and  finally  one  of  the  guests,  a 
man  whom  the  others  called  "  Southey," 
turned  gayly  to  the  hostess  and  inquired 
with  the  ease  of  old  friendship,  — 

"  My  good  lady,  when  are  we  to  have 
our  supper?  Please  remember  that 
Wordsworth  and  I  have  journeyed  all  the 
way  from  Keswick  solely  for  the  delight 
of  supping  with  you.  Do  you  realize 
that  eleven  o'clock  has  come  and  gone  ? " 

Mary  Lamb  laughed  merrily,  but 
shook  her  head  with  decision. 

"  Fifteen  minutes  more  you  must 
[172] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

wait,  so  curb  your  hunger  as  best  you 
can.  The  guest  of  honor  has  not  yet  ar- 
rived, and  when  he  comes,  you  will  all 
agree,  I  am  sure,  that  it  would  be  worth 
while  to  delay  supper  until  to-morrow, 
if  only  we  might  have  him  with  us." 

"  A  mystery  I  A  mystery  ! "  cried  the 
visitors,  and  thereupon  they  began  to  ply 
Miss  Mary's  brother  with  questions  as  to 
who  the  expected  personage  might  be. 

To  all  these,  the  young  host  gave 
jovial  but  vague  replies,  exchanging 
with  his  sister  frequent  nods  and  smiles 
over  their  heads. 

Presently  there  sounded  a  quick  step 
on  the  stair,  and  Charles  Lamb  threw 
open  the  door,  shouting  joyfully,  — 

"  Welcome,  Samuel,  my  blessed  old 
friend  !  Welcome,  a  thousand  times  !  " 

At  his  words,  the  guests  sprang  up 
with  a  single  impulse,  crying  in  astonish- 
ment, — 

"  Coleridge ! " 

Then  for  an  instant  they  turned  their 
eyes  away  from  the  two  who  stood  clasp- 
[173] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

ing  one    another's    hands    in   wordless, 
heartfelt  greeting. 

The  silence  endured  but  a  moment ; 
then  the  new-comer  was  quickly  sur- 
rounded, and  the  room  rang  with  the 
hearty  good-will  of  his  reception. 

Charles  hastened  to  relieve  him  of  his 
travelling  cloak  and  hat,  Mary  summoned 
the  party  to  the  table,  temptingly  laid, 
and  the  guests  sat  down  to  the  enjoyment 
of  the  viands  and  the  company  of  their 
unexpected  friend. 

Samuel  Coleridge  had  just  returned 
after  a  two  years'  absence  from  England, 
and  the  tales  he  related  of  his  visit,  the 
accounts  he  gave  of  his  adventures  abroad, 
captivated  the  company.  Every  word 
that  fell  from  his  lips  was  received  with 
keen  attention,  and  whether  his  mood 
was  grave  or  gay,  serious  or  sprightly,  his 
hearers  sat  enthralled. 

"  To  be  sure,  Coleridge  is  a  wonderful 
poet,"  whispered   Southey  to   the  lady 
next  him,  "  but  in  my  judgment  he  talks 
even  better  than  he  writes." 
[174] 


SIX  HUNDRED  PLUS  ONE 

"  He  holds  us  with  his  expressive  eyes," 
mused  Mary. 

"  I  can  see,"  decided  Charles,  "  that  his 
power  lies  in  his  magnetic  voice,  the  voice 
that  charmed  us  all  in  the  old  school-days." 

Whatever  was  the  source  of  his  singu- 
lar influence,  hours  passed  as  the  visitors 
sat  under  the  spell  of  Samuel's  presence, 
and  morning  was  stealing  across  the 
threshold  when  they  rose  from  the  table 
and  took  their  departure. 

Coleridge  was  the  last  to  go,  and  when 
about  to  descend  the  stair,  he  again 
clasped  the  hand  of  his  host  with  a  warm 
and  fervent  pressure. 

"  I  am  fond  of  them  all,"  he  said  slowly, 
indicating  those  whose  footfalls  still 
sounded  in  the  passage  below ;  "  I  am 
fond  of  them  all :  Southey,  Wordsworth, 
Lovell,  and  the  rest;  but  you,  Charles 
Lamb,  you  are  to  me  as  though  you  had 
been  born  my  younger  brother." 


[175] 


THE   LION   THAT   HELPED 

[  CANOVA  ] 


'  ^T^ONIN,  Tonin,  come  out  with  us  to 
A  the  river  1  Luigi  has  built  a  raft, 
and  we  're  going  to  pole  it  down  to  the 
second  bridge." 

Five  boys,  bareheaded,  barefooted, 
dirty-faced,  and  joyful,  grouped  them- 
selves before  a  mud-  walled  Alpine  cabin, 
the  last  of  a  quaint  village  row,  while 
Pablo,  their  leader,  hailed  some  one 
within. 

Instantly  there  appeared  in  the  door- 
way a  boy  of  their  own  age,  clad  as 
roughly  and  lightly  as  themselves.  His 
blouse  was  loosened  comfortably  at  the 
throat,  his  trousers  were  rolled  well 
above  the  knee,  and  over  these  cool 
garments  he  wore  a  hempen  working- 
apron  which  was  held  in  place  by  a 
stout  cord  attached  to  its  upper  corners 
[176] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

and  passing  about  his  neck.  In  one 
hand  he  held  a  small  steel  hammer,  in 
the  other  a  chisel. 

"  Come  on,  Tonin,"  repeated  Pablo, 
pointing  excitedly  toward  the  brook. 

The  lad  in  the  doorway  shook  his 
head  and  lifted  his  chisel  meaningly,  as 
though  no  additional  explanation  were 
needed. 

"  Oh,  do,  do  ! "  urged  the  new-comers. 
"  Leave  your  old  stone-chipping  for  an 
hour  and  come  with  us.  We  '11  let  you 
pole  all  the  time  if  you  will." 

"  I  can't,"  returned  the  other  briefly. 

"  Please  come  1  Come  along ! "  in- 
sisted four  alluring  voices,  but  Pablo 
turned  away  impatiently. 

"  Leave  that  sullen  Tonin  alone ! 
He  'd  rather  bang  away  at  his  grand- 
father's stones  than  go  with  us  on  the 
j oiliest  jaunt  we  could  name.  Come  on, 
and  let  him  stay  by  himself." 

Thereupon  the  boys  ran  swiftly  down 
the  adjoining  slope,  and  Tonin  Canova 

stepped  into  the  house  with  a  shrug,  as 
12  [  177  ] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

though  glad  to  be  rid  of  them  and  their 
invitations.  He  did  not  tarry  in  the 
cleanly  sunlit  cabin,  but  hurried  out  to 
the  rear  garden,  where  an  old  man  wear- 
ing an  apron  similar  to  his  was  busily 
tapping  and  chipping  at  a  block  of  stone 
erected  upon  wooden  supports. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  go  with  the  others  ? " 
inquired  the  stone-cutter,  looking  up 
from  his  work.  "  You  need  n't  have 
come  back,  because  I  have  finished  the 
urn  for  the  terrace  of  the  Villa  d'Asolo, 
and  it  is  too  late  in  the  afternoon  to  be- 
gin on  the  Monfumo  altar  ornaments. 
Besides,  you  have  stood  by  your  work 
pretty  hard  lately,  and  1  think  every  boy 
needs  a  holiday  once  in  a  way." 

"  I  don't  want  a  holiday,  grandfather." 

"  Bless  us !  What  are  you  talking 
about  ?  Who  ever  heard  of  a  boy  who 
did  n't  want  a  holiday  every  day  in  the 
week,  if  he  could  get  it  ? " 

"  I  'd  like  to  be  free  from  working  on 
your  things,  of  course,  but  I  don't  want 
to  pole  a  raft.  I  'd  rather  carve  my 
[178] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

cherries,  if  you  can  do  without  me  the 
rest  of  the  afternoon." 

"  Ho,  ho ! "  chuckled  the  old  man 
fondly  ;  "  you  're  just  like  me,  Tonin  : 
work  is  play  when  it  happens  to  be 
stone-work.  Do  your  cherries,  if  you 
have  the  mind." 

"  Hurrah  !  I  can  finish  them  to-day, 
and  1 11  do  a  pear  next,  and  —  see,  grand- 
father, by  carnival-time  I  '11  have  plenty 
to  sell,"  and  throwing  open  the  door  of  a 
small  rude  cupboard  set  in  the  branches  of 
a  stunted  acacia,  Tonin  proudly  displayed 
a  collection  of  peaches,  apples,  and  grapes 
which  his  skilful  fingers  had  wrought  out 
of  fragments  of  stone  left  from  old 
Pasino's  cuttings.  Next  autumn,  when 
all  the  villagers  and  country  folk  of  the 
province  would  assemble  at  Asolo  for 
their  carnival  and  yearly  frolic,  Tonin 
would  peddle  his  pretty  fruit  among  the 
pleasure-seekers,  confident  of  filling  his 
purse-bag  with  coins  in  exchange  for 
his  wares.  As  he  stood  reviewing  his 
handiwork,  he  smiled  slyly  at  thought 
[179]  ' 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

of  the  gifts  he  would  buy  for  the  two 
old  people  who  adored  him,  and  who 
had  freely  shared  with  him  their  roof 
and  bread,  from  his  earliest  infancy. 

The  stone-cutter's  earnings  were  neces- 
sarily small,  and  for  two  years  Tonin  had 
assisted  him  regularly  at  his  work,  cut- 
ting, carrying,  measuring,  and  delivering 
day  by  day.  He  seconded  Pasino's  efforts 
so  intelligently,  and  labored  through  the 
long  hours  with  such  manly  patience, 
that  the  scanty  comforts  in  the  Alpine 
cabin  visibly  increased,  and  all  the  while 
the  boy  was  learning  the  use  of  the  cun- 
ning edged  tools  which  his  grandfather 
wielded  so  dexterously.  The  lad's  name, 
as  it  appeared  on  the  parish  register,  was 
Antonio,  but  to  the  guileless  aged  pair 
who  cared  for  him  he  was  simply  and 
always  Tonin. 

Hoof-beats,  accompanied  by  a  shout 
from  the  roadway,  caused  the  stone-cutter 
and  the  boy  to  hurry  quickly  to  the  hedge- 
row before  the  cabin. 

A  mounted  horseman  wearing  the 
[180]  . 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

livery  of  the  Duke  d'Asolo  called  out,  as 
with  difficulty  he  brought  his  spirited 
steed  to  a  standstill, — 

"  Pasino,  you  are  wanted  at  the  villa. 
Something  in  the  picture  gallery  needs 
to  be  done,  and  you  are  the  only  one  to 
do  it.  The  duke  gives  a  great  banquet 
to-night,  and  the  room  must  be  in  readi- 
ness. Vittori  sent  me,  and  bids  you  to 
hurry  as  fast  as  you  can." 

"  I  '11  follow  you  at  once.  Come,  Tonin, 
mayhap  you  can  be  of  service  at  the  villa 
also." 

Off  galloped  the  messenger,  and  down 
the  road  marched  Pasino  Canova,  bearing 
his  tool-box  upon  his  shoulder,  while  his 
barefooted  grandson,  similarly  equipped, 
trudged  cheerily  by  his  side. 

The  stone-cutter  was  frequently  in  de- 
mand at  the  Villa  d'Asolo,  for  besides 
the  craft  of  his  trade,  the  old  man  under- 
stood something  of  the  uses  of  plaster, 
stucco,  and  even  marble.  No  other 
workman  in  this  remote  hill  country  was 
so  skilled,  and  for  many  years  he  had 
[181] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

received  the  friendly  patronage  of  Gio- 
vanni Falier,  Duke  d'Asolo. 

On  the  way,  Pasino  stopped  for  an 
instant  before  the  entrance  of  a  gentle- 
man's country  residence.  "This,"  said 
he,  "  is  the  home  of  Toretto,  the  great, 
great  sculptor." 

"  Oh,  grandfather,  let 's  go  in  and 
look  at  his  wonderful  statues,"  begged 
Tonin.  "  Please,  grandfather  !  Surely  he 
wouldn't  care,  for  I  came  once  with 
Giuseppe  Falier,  and  he  allowed  us  to 
look  at  everything.  Do,  grandfather  ! " 

"Not  to-day,"  objected  the  old  man, 
hastily  resuming  his  onward  way ;  "  we 
have  work  to  do,  and  have  promised  to 
hurry  to  the  Villa  d'Asolo  as  fast  as  we 
can." 

Tonin  slowly  followed  Pasino  down 
the  road,  looking  backward  over  his 
shoulder  as  long  as  the  tall  chimneys  of 
Toretto's  palace  could  be  seen. 

"  Grandfather,"  said  he  thoughtfully, 
as  a  turning  of  the  way  shut  the  sculptor's 
house  from  sight,  "  I  'd  rather  be  able  to 
[182] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

make  a  statue  as  beautiful  as  the  ones 
Toretto  showed  us  that  day  than  do  any- 
thing else  in  the  whole  world." 

"  Ah,  that  you  might !  "  burst  out  the 
old  man  emphatically ;  "  but,  Tonin,  for 
such  work  the  eyes,  the  fingers,  the  mind 
must  be  taught  —  taught,  Tonin,  and  — 
well,  you  know  the  rest :  poor  folk  like 
us  must  n't  be  gloomy  because  we  can't 
do  fine  works.  Chances  to  learn  such 
things  cost  so  much  that  none  but  gen- 
tlemen with  bulging  purses  can  afford 
them." 

"  I  'm  not  gloomy,  grandfather !  You 
can  teach  me  all  that  you  know,  and 
when  I  am  a  man,  I  will  take  care  of 
you  and  grandmother."  Here  the  boy 
began  to  whistle  gayly,  seeking  to  banish 
the  look  of  sadness  that  had  rested  for  a 
moment  on  the  old  man's  features. 

Presently  they  reached  the  Villa 
d' A  solo,  whose  pillared  gates  were  thrown 
open  to  them  by  retainers.  Across  the 
terraces  they  took  their  way,  past  arbors, 
gardens  of  blossoms,  and  plashing  foun- 
[183] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

tains,  reaching  at  last  a  postern  door  of 
the  many-storied  castle. 

In  the  passage  they  were  confronted 
by  Giuseppe  Falier,  the  duke's  youngest 
son,  a  handsome  lad  no  older  than  Tonin. 
A  serving-man  attended  him,  carrying  a 
glass  aquarium  that  contained  numerous 
brilliant  goldfish.  Boy  and  groom  were 
preparing  to  depart  through  the  door  by 
which  the  Canovas  had  entered,  but  at 
sight  of  the  new-comers  Giuseppe  halted. 

"  Hello,  Tonin,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  come 
with  me  up  to  my  cousin's  house.  This 
is  David's  birthday,  and  I  forgot  all  about 
it  until  this  minute.  I  did  n't  have  any 
present  to  give  him,  so  I  decided  I  'd 
take  the  goldfish  out  of  the  conservatory. 
He  likes  such  things.  I  don't,  myself. 
Come  on,  and  we'll  have  some  fun. 
David  has  a  new  boat,  and  we  '11  make 
him  take  it  out." 

Giuseppe's  invitation  was  so  frankly 
cordial  that  Tonin  would  have  joined 
him  readily  had  he  had  no  duties  to  per- 
form. Giuseppe  was  a  lad  of  jovial  spirit 
[184] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

who  chose  his  friends  wherever  he  found 
good  comrades,  quite  regardless  of  rank 
and  riches,  and  many  were  the  half-days 
that  he  and  Tonin  had  spent  together, 
exploring  the  hills  and  valleys  round 
about  Asolo. 

"  I  can't  go  to-day,  Giuseppe,"  replied 
Tonin  ;  "  grandfather  has  something  to  do 
in  the  picture  gallery  before  the  banquet 
to-night,  and  he  is  likely  to  need  me." 

"  My  eye,  but  there  will  be  a  crowd  of 
people  here  !  One  reason  I  'm  going  up 
to  David's  is  because  I  'm  not  allowed  to 
stay  up  for  the  fun.  Good-by.  I '11  take  you 
up  to  see  the  boat  some  day  next  week," 
and  beckoning  the  servant  to  follow 
with  the  aquarium,  the  young  patrician 
disappeared  through  the  outer  door,  and 
the  Canovas  made  their  way  up  a  stately 
marble  stair,  and  through  a  winding  cor- 
ridor until  they  came  to  a  long  narrow 
apartment  whose  walls  were  hung  with 
canvases. 

Here  they  were  greeted  by  Vittori, 
the  stout  and  hoary  seneschal  of  the 
[185] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

palace.  He  wore  his  crimson  robe  of 
office,  and  a  stupendous  bunch  of  keys 
hung  by  a  chain  from  his  girdle,  clanking 
as  he  walked. 

He  bustled  up  to  the  Canovas  hur- 
riedly, puffing  and  panting  as  from  some 
undue  exertion. 

"  Ha,  Pasino,  you  are  the  very  man  I 
most  need  to  see.  Those  four  deep  niches 
in  the  walls,  two  at  either  end  of  this 
gallery,  are  to  be  filled  with  the  statues 
which  Toretto  has  just  finished.  The 
beastly  things  were  delivered  yesterday, 
and  Toretto  himself  promised  to  come 
to  see  that  they  were  set  up  properly, 
but  instead,  a  message  was  brought  from 
him  two  hours  ago  saying  that  he  had 
sprained  his  silly  ankle  and  could  not 
stir  from  the  house.  The  duke  will  be 
furious  if  his  marble  doll-babies  are  not 
on  view  to-night,  and  as  I  wouldn't 
touch  them  myself  for  fear  of  harming 
them  with  my  clumsy  fingers,  I  called 
you  for  the  business.  There,  in  that 
further  ante-room,  you  will  find  Toretto's 
[186] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

beauties  inside  the  packing  cases,  and 
you  are  to  get  them  safely  into  these 
niches.  My-o !  My-o !  What  a  load 
of  care  falls  on  a  poor  old  man  who  is 
keeper  of  a  palace  where  one  hundred 
noble  guests  are  expected  for  a  feast ! 
Nobody  in  all  Venetia  has  more  worries 
and  responsibilities.  You  may  have  as 
many  men  as  you  want,  Pasino,  and  if 
your  eye  spies  out  any  need  for  decora- 
tions in  this  chamber,  send  for  what  you 
wish.  My-o!  My-o!  The  carriages 
are  beginning  to  arrive,  and  I  must 
make  eleven  more  arrangements  before 
the  feast  is  ready.  You  have  plenty  of 
time,  for  this  room  is  not  to  be  used 
until  the  ladies  come  up  at  the  end  of 
the  banquet,  to  drink  their  Persian 
coffee,"  and  the  seneschal  departed,  ac- 
companied by  the  sounds  of  his  labored 
breathing  and  jangling  keys. 

Pasino's  task  was  a  delicate  one,  and 

though  Vittori  sent  four  strong  men  to 

aid   him,  the  evening  was  nearly  spent 

by  the  time  the  glistening  statues  were 

[187] 


BOYS   WHO   BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

released  from  their  temporary  prisons 
and  lifted  to  their  pedestals  in  the 
gallery  niches. 

While  they  worked,  sounds  of  music 
and  subdued  laughter  floated  up  to  them, 
and  fragrances  and  appetizing  odors  were 
continually  wafted  from  the  banquet-hall 
below. 

Tonin  worked  with  the  others,  and 
when  the  sculptured  nymphs  were 
brought  to  view,  his  delight  knew  no 
bounds.  Taking  up  his  position  before 
the  last  erected  one,  he  stood  with  folded 
arms,  silently,  wonderingly  drinking  in 
the  beauties  which  Toretto's  chisel  had 
effected.  He  was  wholly  lost  to  time 
and  place  and  was  quite  unaware  that 
the  servants  had  removed  all  traces  of 
packing  and  litter,  and  that  a  bevy  of 
maids  were  now  seated  in  the  gallery, 
weaving  garlands  at  Pasino's  order,  for 
the  festooning  of  the  unfinished  pedes- 
tals. He  was  so  absorbed  in  the  snowy 
goddess  before  him  that  he  was  deaf  to 
everything  until  old  Vittori's  voice  sud- 
[188] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

denly  rent  the  gallery's  stillness  with 
something  between  a  groan  and  a 
shriek. 

"  Where  is  the  aquarium  ?  Who 's 
seen  my  gold-fish  ?  Answer,  somebody, 
or  I  '11  throw  you  all  out  of  the  window  ! 
Oh,  I  shall  be  disgraced  and  discharged 
and  maybe  half  killed  !  Where  is  it  ? 
Why  don't  you  speak?" 

The  seneschal's  appearance,  as  well  as 
his  words,  indicated  unusual  excitement, 
for  his  scarlet  robe  was  thrown  open  at 
the  throat,  his  frosty  locks  were  rumpled, 
his  uplifted  hands  were  shaking,  and  his 
lips  were  twitching  uncannily. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  What 's  wrong  ? " 
demanded  a  dozen  voices,  but  Tonin 
darted  across  to  the  old  man's  side  with 
the  announcement  — 

"  Giuseppe  carried  it  away  this  after- 
noon as  a  present  to  his  cousin  David." 

"  My-o  I  My-o  !  I  am  lost,  I  am 
done,  I  am  dead  !  "  ejaculated  the  senes- 
chal, wringing  his  hands. 

"  What 's  the  trouble,  Vittori  ? "  asked 
[189] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Pasino,  laying  a  quieting  hand  upon  the 
shoulder  of  his  agitated  friend. 

"  It  is  this,"  returned  the  seneschal 
hoarsely  ;  "  the  duke  ordered  me  to  send 
to  the  table  a  fresh  ornamental  centre- 
piece with  each  course,  making  every  one 
handsomer  than  the  one  used  before  it. 
I  did  so,  and  all  has  now  been  served  but 
the  dessert,  and  that  will  be  due  in  about 
fifteen  minutes.  For  this  fancy  piece  I 
have  filled  a  great  tray  with  Parma 
violets  on  snow,  thousands  of  them  — 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  flowers  I  planned 
to  set  the  aquarium  of  goldfish  for  a 
bit  of  color  and  life.  My-o  !  My-o  I 
What  shaU  I  do  ? "  and  once  again  the 
seneschal  fell  to  moaning. 

"  Build  a  column  of  fruit  in  the  centre 
of  the  tray,"  suggested  Pasino. 

"  Impossible  1  I  used  a  pyramid  of 
apricots  and  nectarines  for  the  second 
course." 

"Wouldn't  a  lighted  candle  or  lamp 
do  ? "  inquired  Pasino,  earnestly  endeav- 
oring to  find  relief  for  the  seneschal. 
[190] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

"  No  !  No  I "  wailed  Vittori ;  "  lighted 
things  would  melt  the  snow." 

"To  be  sure,"  agreed  Pasino  sympa- 
thetically. 

"  I  know  something  that  might  be 
pretty,"  ventured  Tonin  timidly. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  Vittori  demanded. 

For  answer  the  boy  turned  from  the 
seneschal  and  his  fellow-retainers,  and 
whispered  to  Pasino  apart.  The  old 
man's  face  brightened  as  he  received  the 
boy's  confidence. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  commented  ;  "  but 
it  ought  to  be  good  —  yes,  yes,  it  would 
be,  it  would  indeed  !  " 

"  Then  let  him  put  it  through,"  shouted 
the  seneschal  desperately.  "  I  can't  wait 
to  hear  what  it  is,  for  I  'm  late  now. 
Do  as  he  says,  everybody,  for  I  Ve  got 
to  trust  my  reputation  to  this  stripling 
whether  I  like  it  or  not.  Saints  help 
him,  for  if  the  work  is  a  failure,  woe  to 
poor  Vittori!  Have  your  ornament 
ready  in  the  lower  rear  passage,  lad, 
when  the  tray  goes  through  to  the  ban- 
[191] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

quet-room.  Everything  else  shall  be 
taken  in  first,  so  that  you  may  have  as 
much  time  as  possible." 

Off  went  the  harassed  seneschal,  and 
Tonin,  beset  with  misgivings  lest  he  had 
been  both  rash  and  bold  in  his  offer  of 
assistance,  addressed  the  grooms  with 
outward  composure. 

"  Bring  me  a  firkin  of  butter,  a  pail  of 
the  coldest  spring  water,  and  a  big  china 
platter." 

His  orders  were  swiftly  obeyed,  and  all 
looked  on  with  expectant  interest  while 
he  directed  a  servant  to  dig  from  the  cask 
as  much  butter  as  could  be  heaped  on  the 
platter.  Next  he  rolled  back  his  sleeves 
and  plunged  his  hands  into  the  water- 
pail,  holding  them  there  until  they  were 
sufficiently  cooled  for  his  purpose,  then 
attacking  the  butter  with  his  dripping 
fingers,  he  rolled  and  patted  it  into  a 
goodly  loaf,  with  motions  so  quick  and 
decisive  that  the  spectators  fairly  blinked. 
Seizing  a  small  chisel  and  a  pointed 
wooden  blade  from  Pasino's  tool-chest, 
[192] 


'In  its  place  appeared  a  noble  lion. 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

Tonin  began  to  convert  the  meaningless 
dairy  lump  into  a  form  familiar  to  all 
beholders. 

With  the  touch  of  his  nimble  instru- 
ments, attended  by  occasional  taps  and 
pressures  from  his  lithe  brown  fingers, 
the  loaf  vanished,  and  in  its  place  ap- 
peared a  noble  lion,  quite  as  though 
Tonin's  chisel  had  been  a  magic  wand 
which  had  freed  the  king  of  the  forest 
from  a  stifling  and  hideous  disguise. 

The  tawny  beast,  with  his  bushy  head, 
slender  body,  powerful  limbs,  and  grace- 
ful tail,  brought  a  torrent  of  babbling 
admiration  from  the  on-lookers ;  but 
Tonin,  heedless  of  their  chatter,  sought 
out  his  grandfather  with  questioning 
glance.  He  received  a  quiet  nod  from 
Pasino,  and  drying  his  hands  on  a  corner 
of  his  hempen  apron,  he  caught  up  the 
platter  and  carried  it  to  the  appointed 
place  below  stairs,  followed  by  Pasino 
and  a  train  of  chuckling  servants. 

He  had  gauged  the  time  exactly,  for 
as  he  stepped  into  the  low-ceiled  passage, 
is  [  193  ] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

six  flower-maidens,  bearing  the  debatable 
centrepiece,  entered  from  the  opposite 
doorway.  The  seneschal  joined  them 
immediately,  and  without  a  word  set 
Tonin's  lion  in  the  centre  of  the  snowy 
field,  enclosed  on  every  side  by  drifts  of 
Parma  violets.  Vittori  then  abruptly 
directed  the  maidens  to  enter  the  ban- 
quet-hall with  their  ornament. 

That  the  seneschal  was  alarmed  lest 
the  duke  would  not  be  pleased  with  this 
hastily  contrived  decoration,  Tonin  read 
at  a  glance  ;  and  impulsively  he  threw 
himself  before  the  carriers  to  stay  their 
progress. 

"Don't  send  it  in  if  it  isn't  right, 
Master  Vittori !  Try  something  else, 
please  !  "  he  implored. 

"  Hist !  Let  them  go,  let  them  go  1 
I  have  nothing  else  to  send,  so  I  must 
stand  or  fall  by  your  butter-toy.  Alas 
for  me,  and  you,  too,  sirrah,  if  the  duke 
be  vexed ! " 

A  strained  silence  fell  upon  the  group 
in  the  rear  passage  as  the  flower-maidens 
[194] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

crossed  the  main  corridor  and  entered  the 
banquet-hall.  The  grooms  and  maids 
exchanged  significant  nods  and  winks, 
old  Vittori  unconsciously  pressed  his 
keys  tightly  to  his  breast,  Pasino  with- 
drew into  the  shadow,  and  Tonin  waited 
in  acute  suspense,  wondering  whether  in 
his  desire  to  relieve  the  seneschal's  di- 
lemma he  had  been  guilty  of  a  childish 
and  ignorant  blunder.  As  the  seconds 
flew  by,  the  boy's  perplexity  increased, 
and  presently  he  was  writhing  with  the 
fear  that  his  offering  would  affront  the 
duke,  and  perhaps  even  render  him 
ridiculous  before  the  lords  and  ladies 
who  sat  at  the  board. 

Sounds  of  harps  and  violins  greeted 
them  from  beyond  the  velvet-hung  por- 
tal, but  none  in  the  rear  passage  regarded 
the  melody. 

Five  minutes  dragged  by,  and  one  of 
the  flower-maidens  stepped  into  the  cor- 
ridor. Each  person  in  the  rear  passage 
started  breathlessly  forward  to  hear  her 
message. 

[195] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"His  grace  desires  the  seneschal  to 
come  to  him." 

"  My-o  !  My-o  ! "  groaned  Vittori ; 
"  mercy  knows  what  he  11  do  to  me  — 
and  to  you,  too,  Tonin  Canova  ! " 

Pausing  just  long  enough  to  settle  his 
scarlet  robe  and  adjust  his  linen  neck- 
cloth, the  seneschal  concealed  his  distress 
as  well  as  he  could,  and  walked  sedately 
into  the  banquet-hall. 

Tonin  locked  his  hands  together  in 
despair. 

"  What  a  dunce  I  was  —  I,  Tonin 
Canova,  who  has  never  been  off  this 
mountain  —  to  dare  to  set  up  my  little 
work  before  grand  persons  like  those ! 
Oh,  oh  !  and  poor  Vittori  may  be  dis- 
charged on  account  of  it  1 " 

Suddenly  the  seneschal  reappeared. 

"  Tonin,  you  are  wanted  at  once  1 
His  grace  has  sent  for  you.  Hurry  1 
Go  on  ! " 

"  Not  in  there  !  "  gasped  Tonin,  retreat- 
ing toward  the  stair  door  ;  "  I  should  die 
of  fright  before  those  great  folk." 
[196] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

"  Hurry,  hurry,  you  impudent  mon- 
key !  Do  you  think  you  can  keep  the 
Duke  d'Asolo  waiting  ? " 

To  make  an  end  of  the  argument, 
Vittori  seized  the  boy  by  the  arm,  giv- 
ing him  a  push  that  sent  him  into  the 
banquet-room  with  a  rush. 

Tonin  was  half-blinded  by  the  myriads 
of  lights,  and  quite  dazed  by  the  gran- 
deur of  the  spectacle.  He  dimly  com- 
prehended that  the  vast  apartment  was 
hung  with  vines  and  banked  with  flow- 
ers ;  that  a  table  like  a  huge  cross  ran 
the  entire  length  and  nearly  the  breadth 
of  the  room  ;  that  the  Duke  d'Asolo  sat 
at  the  upper  end,  and  that  hosts  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen  in  gorgeous  raiment 
turned  about  in  their  chairs  and  fixed 
their  eyes  upon  the  young  visitor. 

A  scalding  wave  of  shame  rushed  up- 
ward through  Tonin 's  body,  scorching 
his  cheeks  and  dyeing  his  neck  as  he  be- 
came conscious  of  his  own  workaday 
garb.  He  came  to  an  abrupt  stop, 
standing  with  downcast  eyes  before  the 
[197] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Venetian  company,  a  truly  diverting  fig- 
ure with  his  loose  blouse,  rolled-up  trou- 
sers and  sleeves,  bare  arms,  bare  legs, 
and  dripping  apron. 

"  Come,  my  lad,  and  tell  us  something 
about  yourself,"  said  the  duke  in  a  tone 
surprisingly  gentle  for  one  who  palpi- 
tated with  wrath  and  vengeance. 

Tonin  made  his  way  slowly  up  the 
room,  pausing  at  the  duke's  elbow,  and 
raising  his  eyes  just  far  enough  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  his  yellow  lion  on  the  table, 
directly  before  Giovanni  Falier. 

"  When  did  you  do  this  ? "  inquired 
the  master  of  the  feast,  indicating 
the  ornament  with  his  jewelled  index 
finger. 

"  To-night,"  admitted  Tonin  feebly. 

"  Can  you  make  other  figures  and 
objects  ? " 

"  Yes,  signor." 

"  Where  did  you  learn  ? " 

"  From  grandfather,  signor." 

"  I  have  been  greatly  surprised  this 
evening,  as  also  have  been  my  guests, 
[198] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

at  sight  of  this  —  this   decoration,  and 
ahem  —  " 

"  Now  it's  coming,"  thought  Tonin  in 
a  panic.  "Perhaps  he'll  put  me  in  a 
dungeon.'' 

"  I  have  sent  it  clear  around  the  table 
so  that  every  one  might  examine  it 
closely,  and  we  all  agree  about  it.  How 
should  you  like  to  make  statues,  lad,  — 
nymphs,  you  know,  and  fairies  —  " 

"And  goddesses  like  that  one  up- 
stairs ? "  cried  Tonin,  his  face  alight  with 
this  unexpected  turn  of  the  conversation. 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  oh !  I  'd  rather  make  a  god- 
dess like  that  than  to  be  a  king,  or  go 
to  the  carnival !  " 

A  chorus  of  laughter  greeted  this  out- 
burst, and  Tonin  trembled  with  embar- 
rassment and  surprise. 

"  Then  you  shall,"  the  duke  declared 
with  a  smile  like  April  sunshine.  "  You 
must  have  worked  pretty  hard,  harder 
than  most  boys  ever  do,  to  be  able  to 
make  this,"  pointing  to  the  lion ;  "  and  if 
[199] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

you  are  willing  to  keep  on  working,  you 
may  learn  to  do  great  things.  You 
shall  go  to  Toretto,  the  sculptor  who  did 
the  four  pieces  upstairs,  and  he  will 
teach  you  to  make  statues  as  good. 
Shall  you  like  it,  my  boy  ? " 

"Like  it!  Oh,  signor,  if  I  had  a 
chance  to  learn  anything  so  beautiful  I  'd 
work  —  I  'd  work  — 

A  vision  of  the  glistening  goddess  and 
her  wordless  grace  came  before  him, 
causing  something  to  spring  up  in  his 
throat  that  choked  him.  Twice  he  tried 
to  finish  his  eager  speech,  but  the  words 
did  not  come.  He  gave  a  quick,  elo- 
quent gesture  of  entreaty,  and  down 
went  his  face  into  his  hands  before  them 
all. 

"  A  toast,  a  toast ! "  exclaimed  the 
duke,  springing  to  his  feet  with  upraised 
glass.  "  We  '11  pledge  in  water,  if  you 
please,  good  people,  for  clear  water  and 
unspoiled  childhood  are  the  purest 
things  of  earth.  Ladies  and  gentlemen, 
I  offer  you  our  little  friend,  Tonin  Can- 
[  200  ] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

ova.  May  he  work  faithfully  with  his 
teacher  day  by  day,  and  when  he  comes 
to  manhood,  may  he  be  good  and  great 
and  happy  !  God  bless  him  1 " 

Clink,  clink,  went  the  glasses. 

Tonin  raised  his  head,  and  as  he 
turned  to  withdraw,  he  whispered  to  the 
duke  with  a  beaming  smile,  — 

"  I  don't  know  any  nice  words  to  say, 
but  maybe  you  '11  tell  all  the  people  for 
me  how  a  boy  feels  when  he  's  too  happy 
to  laugh  and  too  happy  to  cry." 

Up  the  Alpine  road  to  the  village  of 
mud-walled  cabins  rode  a  man  one  day 
in  autumn.  His  air  was  that  of  an  ex- 
perienced traveller,  his  dress  rich  but 
modest,  his  horse  a  spirited  charger. 

At  the  entrance  to  the  village,  a  turn  in 
the  road  brought  him  face  to  face  with  a 
man  in  peasant  attire  who  was  walking 
in  the  opposite  direction.  The  rider  bent 
curiously,  and  gazed  down  at  the  passer-by 
with  keenest  interest ;  then  bringing  his 
horse  sharply  to  a  standstill,  he  cried,  — 
.  [  201  ] 


BOYS   WHO   BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

"  Pablo  !    Don't  you  remember  me  ? " 

The  man  by  the  way  halted  in  sur- 
prise. For  a  moment  he  regarded  the 
stranger  blankly,  then  some  memory  out 
of  his  boyhood  seemed  to  awaken,  for 
suddenly  he  seized  the  horse's  bridle  with 
both  hands,  and  shouted, — 

"  Tonin  Canova !  By  all  the  fates 
and  furies,  you  are  the  last  man  in  the 
world  I  expected  to  see  to-day  1 " 

"  I  knew  you  by  your  quick  and 
springy  step.  I  suppose  you  are  still 
the  leader  of  the  town,  Pablo,  the  fore- 
most citizen  of  Passagno." 

A  flush  of  pride  crept  into  the  peasant's 
cheek,  but  he  merely  waved  his  hand 
toward  the  extensive  vineyard  lying 
further  down  the  slope. 

"  That  is  mine.     That 's  all." 

"  And  enough,  too,  old  friend.  Your 
purse  must  be  ready  to  overflow,  after  a 
harvest  from  that  fine  vineyard." 

The  peasant  blushed  again  and  nodded. 
Then  half  timidly  he  addressed  the 
other,  — 

[202] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

"  I  'm  glad  to  see  you  again,  signer  — 

The  rider  lifted  his  hand  in  rebuke. 

"  Not  signor  to  me,  Pablo  !  I  am  still 
your  friend,  and  not  in  any  wise  changed 
from  the  lad  who  played  with  you  in 
this  very  roadway." 

"  But  you  have  grown  powerful  and 
wealthy  ! " 

"  Ye-es,  but  gold  coins  can  never  make 
me  anything  else  than  I  was  before." 

"  But  we  have  heard  that  the  city  of 
Venice  gave  you  a  pension  for  your 
whole  life,  because  you  had  made  such 
wonderful  statues." 

"  Yes,  Venice  has  been  good  to  me." 

"And  that  all  the  great  people  of 
Rome  are  friends  with  you." 

"True,  but  —  " 

"  That  the  Pope  has  written  your 
name  in  the  golden  book  of  the  capital." 

"  So  he  did  ;  still  —  " 

"  That  Napoleon  of  France  invited 
you  to  his  court,  and  that  the  German 
Emperor  has  even  made  you  a  knight." 

"  Hark  to  me,  Pablo  1 "  and  this  time 
[203] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

the  rider's  voice  was  commanding. 
"  These  things  are  indeed  true,  for 
people  everywhere  have  shown  me  the 
rarest  kindness ;  but  while  the  palace 
doors  of  all  Europe  are  open  to  me  if  I 
care  to  enter,  and  ladies  and  gentlemen 
of  every  nation  pour  their  compliments 
and  gold  upon  me,  my  heart  has  turned 
back  to  my  native  village  and  the  dear 
simple  friends  of  my  childhood.  I  have 
left  the  great  world  for  a  time,  and 
have  come  back  to  see  the  old  faces  ; 
and  Pablo,  on  that  slope,  near  the  little 
cottage,"  —  here  his  voice  broke,  as  he 
pointed  to  the  last  of  the  mud-walled 
cabins,  —  "I  have  planned  to  build  a 
church  as  beautiful  as  the  Parthenon  at 
Athens.  If  my  good  old  neighbors  can- 
not travel  far  enough  to  see  the  temples 
of  the  world,  they  shall  have  one  near  at 
hand,  which  will  show  them  that  Canova 
has  not  forgotten  them." 

True  to  his  word,  the  sculptor  lingered 
in  Passagno  until  there  had  risen  on  the 
mountain  side   a  classic,  snowy  edifice 
[204] 


THE  LION  THAT  HELPED 

which  was  the  wonder  and  pride  of  all 
the  villagers.  When  the  builders  had 
finished  and  had  gone  their  way,  the 
man  who  had  designed  it  all  put  on  his 
apron,  took  up  his  chisel,  and  completed 
for  the  altar  ornaments  that  he  had 
begun  twenty  years  before,  when  he  had 
lived  in  the  cabin  just  over  the  way. 

How  the  people  rejoiced  in  their 
pillared  house  of  worship,  and  how 
grateful  they  were  to  the  giver  of  so 
splendid  a  gift.  Warmly  they  bade  him 
farewell  when  his  task  was  at  length 
completed,  and  he  was  obliged  to  go  in 
order  to  execute  the  greater  works  that 
awaited  him. 

At  last,  in  the  city  of  Rome,  when  the 
sculptor's  hair  whitened,  his  step  faltered, 
and  his  heart  grew  strangely  still,  the 
friends  about  him,  a  brilliant  company, 
carried  him  tenderly  up  the  Alpine  road, 
and  laid  him  to  rest  beneath  the  altar  of 
his  own  carving. 

When  the  service  was  ended,  the  lords 
and  ladies,  the  princes  and  cardinals, 
[205] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

the  poets  and  teachers  who  had  paid 
him  their  devotion  to  the  last,  wound 
their  way  slowly  down  to  the  turbulent 
world ;  and  Tonin  Canova  slept  on  the 
mountain  side,  in  the  heart  of  his  Alpine 
village. 


[206] 


FREDERIC   OF  WARSAW 

[  CHOPIN  i] 

rwas  the  evening  study  hour  at 
.Nicholas  Chopin's  boarding-school. 
Twenty-five  lads  belonging  to  the  oldest 
families  of  Warsaw  were  assembled  in 
the  schoolroom,  preparing  lessons  for  the 
following  day. 

The  place  was  large,  well  lighted,  and 
comfortably  warmed  ;  good  pictures  hung 
on  the  walls,  and  racks  of  books  filled 
every  available  nook.  At  the  upper  end 
of  the  room,  near  the  master's  desk,  stood 
an  open  piano  ;  and  at  the  lower,  a  table 
bearing  plates,  cups,  and  wholesome  re- 
freshments which  would  be  distributed 
among  the  boys  when  study-hour  was 
over.  Throughout  the  room  great  cheer- 
fulness and  comfort  reigned,  and  the 
apple-cheeked  boys  at  the  desks  showed 
that  they  were  generously  cared  for 

1  Chopin  (pronounced  Sho-pang). 
[207] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

under  this  kindly  roof.  They  were 
mostly  little  fellows,  ranging  in  age 
from  eight  to  twelve  years,  and  a  merrier 
company  one  would  journey  far  to  find. 

When  Nicholas  Chopin  sat  behind  the 
desk,  this  hour  was  always  a  quiet  one ; 
for  while  he  was  indulgent  with  the  boys 
out  of  school,  furthering  their  enjoyment 
with  all  his  heart,  he  was  also  a  strict  and 
thorough  teacher,  who  would  tolerate  no 
disturbance  from  the  pupils  during  lesson- 
time. 

But  to-night  the  master  was  absent, 
and  the  new  assistant,  a  mild-eyed,  pale 
young  man,  sat  in  Nicholas  Chopin's 
chair  and  sought  to  keep  the  boys  at 
their  tasks.  He  had  been  among  them 
but  two  or  three  days,  and  at  the  very 
beginning  the  pupils  had  decided  that 
this  was  his  first  attempt  at  teaching. 
His  soft  voice  and  worried  look  filled 
the  boys  with  glee ;  and  half  their  play- 
time was  spent  in  making  plans  to  mock 
and  deride  him.  Until  now,  however, 
they  had  failed  to  carry  out  their  mis- 
[208] 


FR£D£RIC  OF  WARSAW 

chievous  schemes,  for  Nicholas  Chopin 
had  compelled  them  to  treat  the  new 
assistant  with  respectful  obedience.  But 
to-night  the  master  had  gone  from  home, 
leaving  his  assistant  in  full  charge  of  the 
school,  and  the  boys  threw  all  rules  to 
the  winds  for  the  sole  purpose  of  vexing 
the  new  teacher. 

Instead  of  the  usual  stillness  maintained 
at  this  hour,  the  room  was  a-buzz  with 
whispers.  The  boys  noisily  shuffled  their 
feet,  rattled  their  papers,  and  tossed  their 
books  about  on  their  desks.  The  teacher 
rapped  sharply  with  his  ruler  again  and 
again,  but  these  warnings  were  greeted 
with  impudent  chuckles  and  laughter. 

At  one  of  the  side  desks  sat  Frederic 
Chopin,  the  master's  son,  toiling  at  a 
much  blotted  copy-book.  He  was  heartily 
liked  by  every  boy  in  the  house,  and  for 
some  reason,  whenever  he  spoke  in  his 
quiet  way,  the  others  obeyed  his  wishes 
without  a  syllable  of  complaint.  John 
Skotricki,  who  had  the  strongest  arms 
and  legs  at  school,  was  the  ringleader  on 
u  [  209  ] 


SOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

the  playground  ;  but  Frederic  was  chief 
councillor  and  fun-maker  at  all  other 
times  and  places.  Although  the  master's 
son,  he  enjoyed  no  special  favor  or  liberty, 
but  was  held  to  the  same  line  of  duty 
prescribed  for  the  other  students.  In 
the  classroom  he  was  not  noticeably  clever, 
for  he  was  very  bad  at  numbers,  and  it 
is  doubtful  if  he  could  have  found  his 
own  country  on  the  great  globe  in  the 
corner ;  but  there  was  one  thing  that 
Frederic  Chopin  could  do  better  than 
any  other  boy  in  the  school,  better  than 
any  other  boy  in  Warsaw,  better,  proba- 
bly, than  any  other  boy  in  all  the  country 
of  Poland  :  he  could  play  magnificently 
on  the  piano.  So  remarkably  he  played 
that  everybody  wondered,  and  strangers 
often  came  to  the  house  for  a  glimpse  of 
the  young  musician. 

A  year  before,  when  he  was  nine,  he 
had  played  at  a  great  charity  concert 
given  in  the  city  hall,  and  after  the  per- 
formance the  people  had  surged  by  the 
stage  to  shake  his  hand  and  praise  him  ; 
[210] 


FR£D£WC  OF  WARSAW 

and  in  the  excitement  and  pleasure  of  it 
all,  he  might  have  become  very  vain  of  his 
powers  and  success,  but  he  remembered 
just  in  time  that  while  he  could  play 
brilliantly  on  the  piano,  he  could  not 
jump  as  far  by  ten  inches  as  John 
Skotricki,  and  that  he  did  not  know  as 
much  about  grammar  as  the  youngest 
pupil  at  school. 

One  boy  who  had  attended  the  concert, 
and  who  loved  music  passionately,  was 
the  young  Prince  Radziwill.  He  de- 
cided that  evening  that  he  would  like  to 
know  the  boy  pianist,  and  soon  it  was 
no  uncommon  thing  for  the  prince's 
carriage  to  roll  up  to  the  Chopin  school. 
Frederic  went  often  with  the  young 
nobleman  to  drive,  sometimes  even 
accompanying  him  home  to  the  palace ; 
but  of  these  things  he  never  spoke  to 
the  boys  at  school,  and  not  one  of  them 
was  jealous  because  Frederic  had  become 
the  prince's  friend. 

He  practised  diligently  for  many  hours 
every  day  in  his  own  room ;  but  he  never 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

mentioned  the  subject  of  music  to  the 
other  lads,  and  when  in  their  company 
he  was  as  happy-go-lucky  as  any  school- 
boy in  Warsaw. 

To-night,  however,  when  he  saw  the 
new  teacher's  face  flush  with  displeasure 
in  the  noisy  schoolroom,  he  felt  a  bit 
sorry,  for  he  knew  that  the  young  man 
would  prove  to  be  a  good-natured  com- 
panion if  he  were  not  enraged  at  the 
outset. 

Frederic  glanced  uneasily  about  him 
from  time  to  time  as  the  confusion  in- 
creased, realizing  that  even  the  most 
patient  of  teachers  would  not  long  en- 
dure such  rebellion.  He,  as  much  as 
any  one,  enjoyed  the  antics  that  kept  the 
whole  school  tittering,  and  was  strongly 
tempted  to  join  in  the  mutiny  ;  but  he 
had  promised  his  father  to  stand  by  the 
new  assistant  this  evening,  and  he  felt 
honor-bound  to  do  it. 

The  crisis  came  when  John  Skotricki 
leaped  from  his  seat  and  ran  down  the 
room  in  pursuit  of  a  boy  who  had  given 
[212] 


FR£D£RIC  OF  WARSAW 

him  a  cuff  on  the  ear  in  passing.  The 
teacher  sprang  up  with  an  angry  light  in 
his  eye,  and  flourished  the  ruler  threaten- 
ingly. Frederic  exchanged  glances  with 
the  assistant,  and  threw  down  his  pen 
with  the  announcement, — 

"  Boys,  if  you  '11  all  be  quiet  in  your 
seats,  I  '11  tell  you  a  story." 

The  others,  supposing  that  Frederic 
was  on  their  side,  and  that  this  was  a 
part  of  the  joke,  folded  their  arms  ;  and 
instantly  the  room  grew  so  still  that  one 
could  hear  the  ticking  of  the  clock  in  the 
hall  beyond. 

Frederic  turned  out  all  the  lights,  for 
"a  story  always  sounds  better  in  the 
dark,"  he  explained.  Then  seating  him- 
self at  the  piano,  he  began  to  speak, 
playing  all  the  while  music  that  helped 
to  tell  his  story. 

Every  student  rested  his  arms  on  his 
desk,  and  bent  attentively  to  listen. 

"  Once  upon  a  time  there  stood  a  great 
house  on  the  bank  of  a  lonely  river." 
(Here  came  a  lightly  running  passage  on 
[213] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

the  piano,  like  the  rippling  of  water.) 
"  A  band  of  robbers  riding  through  the 
country  paused  in  the  glade  at  nightfall. 
Seeing  the  old  mansion  by  the  river 
side,  they  decided  to  force  an  entrance 
at  midnight  and  carry  away  the  gold 
and  jewels  that  were  probably  secreted 
there. 

"  They  laid  their  plans  carefully " 
(sounds  of  many  gruff,  deep-toned  voices, 
one  at  a  time,  then  all  together  in  a 
rumbling  chorus),  "and  at  the  solemn 
hour  they  had  chosen  "  (twelve  clanging 
tones),  "  they  tied  their  horses  farther  up 
the  dell,  and  marched,  two  by  two,  to- 
ward the  house  by  the  swirling  river. 
Noiselessly  they  approached  and  sur- 
rounded the  many-pinnacled  dwelling, 
each  robber  choosing  a  window  through 
which  he  would  make  his  entrance.  At 
the  signal  of  the  leader  "  (a  high  faint 
trill),  "  each  man  climbed  to  his  window 
ledge,  sawed  straight  through  the  iron 
bars  that  protected  it  "  (a  steady  rasping 
sound  as  of  edged  tools),  "  and  ripped  out 
[214] 


FR&D&RIC  OF   WARSAW 

the  glass  with  the  point  of  his  dagger  " 
(tinklings  as  of  shattered  crystal). 

"  Now  for  the  treasures  !  Each  man 
had  one  foot  inside  the  house,  and  one 
hand  on  the  inner  sill,  when,  all  at  once, 
lights  flared  up  in  every  room  "  (a  reck- 
less sweep  of  notes),  "  dogs  barked 
fiercely,  shouts  were  heard  from  the 
upper  corridors,  pistol-shots  burst  on 
the  stillness  of  the  night,  and  the  rob- 
bers leaped  from  their  perches,  rolling 
over  and  over  in  the  mud  below  "  (loud 
discordant  notes,  and  the  bang,  bang  of 
the  pistols  mingled  with  the  furious 
growling  and  yelping  of  dogs). 

"  Gaining  their  feet  in  a  twinkling,  the 
robbers  fled  as  swiftly  as  though  wearing 
wings  on  their  boots ;  and  reaching  the 
horses  in  breathless  fright,  they  swung 
themselves  into  their  saddles  and  gal- 
loped madly  away.  Hour  after  hour  they 
rode "  (pit-a-pat,  pit-a-pat  of  the  hoof- 
beats),  "  through  valley  and  village  and 
glen.  On,  on  they  spurred  "  (pit-a-pat, 
pit-a-pat),  "until  they  came  to  a  deep, 
[215] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

dense  forest.  Into  its  shadows  they 
plunged,  knowing  that  here  they  would 
be  safe  at  last  from  the  dogs  and  the 
men  who  lived  in  the  house  by  the  roll- 
ing river. 

"  They  pulled  up  their  horses  and  lis- 
tened "  (silence),  "  and  listened  "  (silence), 
"but  heard  no  pursuing  feet.  So,  dis- 
mounting, they  turned  their  horses 
loose  to  nibble  at  will,  and  jaded  by 
hours  of  reckless  riding,  the  robbers 
threw  themselves  upon  the  green  turf 
to  rest.  The  scents  of  the  flowers  were 
sweet,  the  grass  was  deep  and  soft,  the 
leaves  overhead  rustled,  rustled,  rustled, 
and  ere  long,  in  the  cool  of  the  summer's 
dawn,  the  weary  robbers  —  fell  —  asleep." 

So  quietly  had  Frederic  spoken,  so 
softly  had  he  played  as  he  described  the 
woodland  sounds,  that,  gently  touching 
the  final  chord,  he  discovered,  by  the 
moonlight  streaming  in  through  the  win- 
dows, that  twenty-four  boys,  like  the 
tired  robbers,  were  fast  asleep. 

Stealing  from  the  room  on  tiptoe,  he 
[216] 


'Like  the  tired  robbery  were  fast  asleep." 


FR£D£RIC  OF  WARSAW 

summoned  his  sisters  and  the  servants  to 
bring  in  lights  ;  then  stepping  to  the 
piano,  he  struck  one  crashing  chord. 

As  though  a  bomb  had  exploded 
among  them,  the  boys  started  from  their 
slumbers,  rubbing  their  eyes  and  staring 
stupidly  at  one  another. 

At  that  moment  the  clock  chimed  the 
hour  of  dismissal,  and  Nicholas  Chopin 
entered  the  room  ;  whereupon  the  pupils 
bounded  from  their  seats  with  shouts  of 
laughter  over  the  musical  spell  that  Fre- 
deric had  cast  upon  them. 

When  the  cups  and  plates  went  round, 
the  new  teacher  drew  the  master  into  the 
hall  and  told  him  how  cleverly  Frederic 
had  helped  him  to  maintain  order ;  but 
in  the  schoolroom  the  lads  were  waving 
their  sandwiches  and  napkins,  and  cheer- 
ing the  master's  son  as  a  jolly  comrade 
and  a  true-blue  mate. 

The  city  of  Warsaw  adored  its  com- 
poser, Frederic  Chopin.     The  residents 
detected  hidden  meanings  in  his  playing 
[217] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

of  the  piano  which  they  believed  would 
sometime  be  accepted  beyond  the  realm 
of  Poland. 

He  was  young,  handsome,  and  gay, 
and  his  companionship  was  sought  on 
every  side.  Had  not  his  breast  been 
stirred  by  an  impulse  stronger  than  the 
mere  desire  for  popularity,  Frederic 
Chopin  would  have  developed  into  noth- 
ing more  than  an  elegant  young  musi- 
cian, the  acknowledged  favorite  of  his 
fellow-townsmen.  But  he  was  not  con- 
tent to  end  his  career  so  tamely.  He 
must  see  the  world.  He  must  conquer 
the  public  beyond  his  native  land.  He 
must  play,  he  must  compose,  he  must 
work  and  study  to  greater  ends. 

Accordingly,  one  day  in  November, 
at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  he  set  out  for 
Vienna.  When  he  found  himself  actu- 
ally leaving  kindred  and  home  behind,  a 
flood  of  sadness  swept  over  him. 

"  I  shall  never  return,"  he  groaned ; 
"  my  eyes  will  never  look  upon  Warsaw 
again ! " 

[218] 


FRJ£D£SIC  OF 

His  friends  responded  lightly  to  these 
fears,  and  with  their  words  of  cheer  he 
soon  recovered  his  usual  bright  spirit. 

He  was  escorted  as  far  as  the  first 
day's  travel  would  carry  him  by  a  score 
of  affectionate  friends  ;  and  at  the  end  of 
a  banquet  given  in  his  honor,  he  was 
touched  to  the  heart  by  one  of  their 
number  presenting  to  him  a  silver  goblet 
filled  with  Polish  earth,  with  entreaties 
that  he  would  meet  the  world  as  a  man, 
and  keep  his  country  in  constant  re- 
membrance. 

In  Vienna  he  attracted  much  atten- 
tion by  his  playing,  and  at  the  end  of  a 
year  he  was  accounted  one  of  the  leading 
musical  spirits  of  the  city. 

He  had  decided  to  pay  a  brief  visit  to 
his  home  and  friends,  when  on  his  way 
he  was  horrified  to  learn  that  his  beloved 
Poland  had  been  seized  by  the  Russians, 
that  his  country  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemy,  and  that  Warsaw  was  converted 
into  a  camp  of  foreign  soldiers.  He 
dared  not  advance  farther,  as  all  absent 
[219] 


BOYS   WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Poles  had  been  warned  by  the  new  Gov- 
ernment to  keep  away  from  Poland,  on 
pain  of  death. 

Frederic  was  nearly  crushed  by  these 
unlooked-for  tidings,  and,  only  waiting 
to  learn  that  his  parents  were  safe  and 
well,  he  set  his  face  toward  Paris.  Here 
he  decided  to  make  his  home,  as  had  so 
many  others  of  his  exiled  countrymen. 
Success  in  this  city  meant  success  in  the 
world,  and  for  this  Frederic  Chopin 
labored  through  the  following  years. 

His  playing  was  so  rare,  so  peculiarly 
delicate,  that  no  one  in  Paris  could  ap- 
proach him  in  his  chosen  style.  One 
critic  called  him  "  the  piano  god,"  an- 
other, "  Velvet  Fingers  "  ;  and  when  his 
compositions  were  printed,  and  the  peo- 
ple could  play  them  for  themselves,  they 
were  nigh  transported  by  his  genius. 

London  vainly  besought  him  to  take 
up  his  residence  there,  but  he  steadily 
refused,  remaining  for  the  rest  of  his 
days  in  Paris,  the  pride  of  the  Parisians 
and  the  idol  of  the  many  Poles  who,  like 
[220  ] 


FR£D£RIC  OF  WARSAW 

himself,  were  exiled  from  their  native 
land. 

When  the  end  came,  and  the  "  velvet 
fingers "  were  stilled  at  last,  he  was 
buried  from  the  Church  of  the  Made- 
leine. Crowds  of  distinguished  persons 
and  homeless  Poles  attended  the  sacred 
service,  and  the  procession  was  numbered 
by  hundreds,  that,  to  the  strains  of  his 
own  "Funeral  March,"  followed  Fre- 
deric Chopin  to  the  tomb. 

Finally,  when  his  body  was  lovingly 
laid  in  the  place  prepared  for  it,  one  of 
his  countrymen  brought  forth  the  silver 
goblet  which  for  nineteen  years  the 
composer  had  fondly  cherished,  and,  as 
the  sweetest  benediction  he  could  offer, 
reverently  took  a  handful  of  Polish  earth 
and  sprinkled  it  upon  the  body  of  Fre- 
deric of  Warsaw. 


New  Books  for  the  Young 


THE   OAK-TREE  FAIRY  BOOK 

Edited  by  CLIFTON  JOHNSON.  With  eleven  full-page 
plates  and  seventy-five  smaller  illustrations  from 
pictures  by  Willard  Bonte.  Crown  8vo.  Decorated 
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HERE  are  the  old  favorites  in  a  version  especially  suited 
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BOYS  WHO  BECAME  FAMOUS  MEN 

Stories  of  the  Childhood  of  Poets,  Artists,  and  Musicians. 
By  HARRIET  PEARL  SKINNER.  Illustrated  by  Sears 
Gallagher.  12mo.  Decorated  cloth,  $1.25. 

TNCIDENTS  in  the  childhood  of  eight  celebrated  men  — 
JL  poets,  artists,  and  musicians  —  are  here  wrought  into 
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the  incidents  are  true,  and  thus  the  book  is  in  a  measure  bio- 
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FRENCH  PATHFINDERS  IN  NORTH 
AMERICA 

By  WILLIAM  HENRY  JOHNSON,  author  of  "  The  World's 
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A  GRAPHIC  and  comprehensive  narrative  of  French  ex- 
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the  beginning. 


New  Books  for  the  Young 


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By  FRANCES  N.  GREENE  and  DOLLY  WILLIAMS  KIRK. 
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By  JENNIE  HALL,  author  of  "  Four  Old  Greeks/'  etc. 
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volume  gives  four  important  chapters  on  Greek  his- 
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tells  of  the  rebuilding  of  the  Acropolis,  giving  a  pen  picture  of 
Phidias  and  his  working  artists. 

WILDERNESS  BABIES 

By  JULIA  A.  SCHWARTZ.  With  sixteen  full-page  illus- 
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ri^HE  adventures  and  perils  of  sixteen  common  mammals  are 
JL  so  vividly  told  that  what  would  ordinarily  be  set  forth  as 
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combine  to  make  this  treatment  fresh  and  telling.  The  author 
has  a  gift  rarely  vouchsafed  to  writers  for  the  young. 


New  Books  for  Boys 


SHIPWRECKED   IN  GREENLAND 

By  ARTHUR  R.  THOMPSON,  author  of  "  Gold-Seeking  on 
the  Dalton  Trail."  With  twelve  full-page  illustra- 
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A  N  adventure  story  with  the  scene  laid  in  northern  waters. 
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THE  BOY  CAPTIVE  IN  CANADA 

By  MARY  P.  WELLS  SMITH,  author  of  "The  Boy  Captive 
of  Old  Deerfield,"  "  The  Young  Puritans  Series," 
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THIS  is  the  second  story  in  the  Old  Deerfield  Series,  a 
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and  during  a  Canadian  winter  spent  with  his  captors.  It  also 
tells  of  his  happy  redemption  and  return. 

THE  REFORM  OF   SHAUN 

By  ALLEN  FRENCH,  author  of  "  The  Junior  Cup,"  "The 
Story  of  Rolf,  and  the  Viking's  Bow,"  etc.  Illus- 
trated by  Philip  R.  Goodwin  and  Charles  E.  Heil. 
12mo.  Decorated  cloth,  $1.00. 

WO  appealing  dog  stories  by  an  author  who  has  written 
several  successful  books  for  the  young —  "The  Reform  of 
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an  older  dog  gives  him  good  advice,  and  after  that  he  lives  a 
sedate  dog  life.  Both  stories  will  appeal  strongly  to  all  lovers 
of  dogs. 


T 


New   Illustrated    Editions    of 
Miss  Alcott's  Famous  Stories 


LITTLE  WOMEN  SERIES 

BY  LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT.  Illustrated  Edition.  With  eighty-four 
'ull-page  plates  from  drawings  especially  made  for  this  edition  by 
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:loth,  gilt,  in  box,  $16.00. 

Separately  as  follows  : 
c.  LITTLE  MEN:  Life  at  Plumfield  with  Jo's  Boys 

With  1  5  full-page  illustrations  by  Reginald  B.  Birch.    $2.00. 

z.   LITTLE  WOMEN  :  or  Meg,  Jo,  Beth,  and  Amy 

With  15  full-page  illustrations  by  Alice  Barber  Stephens.    $2.00. 

j.   AN  OLD-FASHIONED  GIRL 

With  12  full-page  pictures  by  Jessie  Willcox  Smith.    $2.00. 

j.  JO'S  BOYS,  and  How  They  Turned  Out 

\.  Sequel  to  "  Little  Men."    With  10  full-page  plates  by  Ellen  Wetherald 

\hrens.    $2.00. 

;.   EIGHT  COUSINS  ;  or,  the  Aunt-Hill 

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5.   ROSE  IN  BLOOM 

V  Sequel  to  "Eight  Cousins."    With  8  full-page  pictures  by  Harriet 

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r.   UNDER  THE  LILACS 

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["he  artists  selected  to  illustrate  have  caught  the  spirit  of  the  originals  and  contributed  a 

eries  of  strikingly  beautiful  and  faithful  pictures  of  the  author's  characters  and  scenes.  — 

Boston  Herald. 

Vlice  Barber  Stephens,  who  is  very  near  the  head  of  American  illustrators,  has  shown 

vonderful  ability  in  delineating  the  characters  and  costumes  for  "Little  Women."    They  are 

.'most  startlingly  realistic.  —  Worcester  Sjy. 

Hiss  Alcott's  books  have  never  before  had  such  an  attractive  typographical  dress  as  the 

>resent.     They  are  printed  in  large  type  on  heavy  paper,  artistically  bound,  and  illustrated 

rith  many  full-page  drawings.  —  Philadelphia  Press. 


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